


Strange Things Afoot At the Circle-K

by bellatemple



Category: Merlin (TV), The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Reincarnation, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-13 16:05:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18472336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellatemple/pseuds/bellatemple
Summary: So it turns out that Jenkins isn't the only denizen of Camelot hanging around the Library. Not by a long shot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Much like The Fight in the Dog, the entire first draft of this fic has been written. I'm just anxious to start posting and don't want to wait until I've finished editing the whole shebang. 
> 
> Also, if both canons can play fast and loose with Arthurian legend, then dammit, so can I. . . .

It was a dark and stormy night. 

Not _the_ dark and stormy night, mind you. That had its own designated room over by the gothic section. But _a_ dark and stormy night, certainly, full of sound and fury, thunder and lightning, _sturm und drang_ — all of which was, frankly, a nice trick, considering that it was all happening indoors. 

"Are you kidding me?" Jenkins asked conversationally of the Annex at large. He stared up at the flickering lights on the ceiling and let out an exasperated sigh. "You've gotten just what you wanted. You have three extra Librarians, for goodness sake. No one's even tried to invade in . . . well over a month, certainly. Why the hell are you throwing a tantrum now?" 

The Library, as usual, chose not to answer. And why should it? Jenkins had only devoted the better part of his life to caring for it. What did he matter. . . . 

Really, though, Jenkins thought, shoving the resentful feelings aside. He was too old to feel jealous of the Library's new bonded pair. 

A dramatic flash of lightning flooded the Annex for an instant, and the power went out with a _crack_ , leaving Jenkins momentarily blinded. A harsh wind blew through, sending papers scattering into the air, rustling like an entire flock of bird wings. In the next flash, Jenkins caught sight of a figure in the archway leading to the front doors. In the flash after that, the figure was gone. 

"Mr. Jones!" Jenkins tried, pitching his voice to carry over the wind. "If this is a bid to get me to join you for a horror movie marathon, it is _ill-advised!_ " 

Rain began to blow in in sheets, soaking through even Jenkins' wool suit in moments. He blinked water from his eyes and raised his hand to shield them from the next lash of wind, peering into the darkness and hoping neither Ezekiel nor any of the other non-immortal employees of the Library were suffering a similar torment. 

"Really," he said. "This is all entirely too much —"

He cut off with a strangled croak when lightning flashed again, revealing the mysterious figure from the stairs, now inches from his face. 

"Galahad," the figure croaked. It was visibly ancient, a wrinkled crone with long white hair matched only by its extraordinary beard, and nary an eyebrow hair to be seen. It had been several centuries since Jenkins had last seen him, yet he'd know the man anywhere. "We need to talk." 

Another crack, and the world went dark and silent so swiftly Jenkins wondered if he'd been struck deaf and blind. Or — rather more likely — if he'd been teleported into a soundproof box. Then the usual lights of the Annex switched back on with a hum, and Jenkins was left standing alone at the center of wet paper battle field. 

"Sometimes," he remarked to the room at large. "I really hate wizards."

*

"Merlin," said Flynn.

"Yes," said Jenkins. 

"Seriously?" asked Flynn. " _The_ Merlin?!"

"I believe so, sir," Jenkins said dryly — his voice being the only dry thing left to him after that little display of melodrama. "Though I'm afraid I neglected to ask him for ID." 

"Well," said Flynn. "You would be the expert. After all, you're the one who's met him before." 

"On occasion," Jenkins agreed. "Though we were never terribly close. You might say we were more . . . members of the same club." 

"Jenkins." Flynn clapped Jenkins on the soggy shoulder, then attempted to dry his hand off on Jenkins' equally sodden lapel. "You truly are the master of marvelous understatement. So! Are you going to do it?"

Jenkins bit back a sigh. "Am I going to do _what?_ " 

"Talk to Merlin! Can I be there? When you do it? Oh please say I can come. I have _so many questions!_ "

"As much as I would like to talk to Merlin, sir," Jenkins said, cutting Flynn off mid-digression with a lifted finger. "I'm afraid that's going to be difficult. Aside from this — watery communique, no one has spoken to the man in more than a thousand years. Well, not that we can prove, certainly." 

"Oh pish-posh!" Flynn started collecting a pile of wind blown papers, only to pause and shake more water off of his hand. "We've rescued Shakespeare! Defeated Apep! Saved the fabric of time itself! Just wait for the others to get back from this Lady Luck mission, and we'll find Merlin for you in no time!" 

"That won't be necessary, sir," Jenkins said. He'd dragged a large standing fan from his office and was aiming it at the central table. With his signature combination of basic physics and just a hint of magic, he'd have the place dry in no time. "I know exactly where Merlin is. He's simply . . . not very chatty, these days."

*

Flynn looked up at the gnarled oak, planted not far from the Tree of Knowledge in the forest at the heart of the Library. "Right," he said, knocking gently on its bark, then pressing his ear against it. "I can see where you've got a problem."

He was extremely glad this wasn't the tree he'd let Prospero set on fire. 

"Indeed," Jenkins said, looking up into the tree's twisted branches with a sigh. "If Merlin would like to speak to me, he's going to have to be the one picking up the phone."

*

And Jenkins was satisfied with that answer, for the most part. He missed his old friends from the days of magic, certainly, Arthur especially, and that ache had never been more present than it had since they'd stopped his father's attempt to resurrect Camelot. But he'd been perfectly honest when he'd said that he and Merlin had never been close. Jenkins had never been close with more than a handful of people in his entire life, and frankly, Merlin had known Lancelot first. A bastard son, borne of a wicked magical deed and raised in secret to sully the reputation of Arthur's noblest knight?

At times it had seemed as though it was only Arthur himself — and once he fell, Queen Guinevere — who didn't resent his very existence. 

So . . . yes. While he wondered and worried over what was so important as to draw the great wizard from his arboreal slumber — especially seeing as the prophesized battle between Good and Evil hadn't been enough to do it — he was content to wait until Merlin "called back", as it were. At which point, Jenkins fully intended to give him an earful about choosing the medium and content of his messages with greater care. 

Then the Librarians had taken on a mission at a camp, and one of them had come back distant and bemused and with a newfound understanding of the language of trees. And Jenkins resigned himself to having to contact the old man after all.

*

"Merlin," said Stone.

"Yes," said Jenkins. 

"As in . . . _the_ Merlin." 

"Yes, Flynn and I already did this bit." 

Stone opened his mouth to say something else, then let it shut again. He looked down at the 'language of flowers' book he had open on his lap, which had turned out to be about metaphor and symbolism, and thus entirely unhelpful in working out how to communicate with all the varied plants either in or around the Library. 

Who knew plants had dialects? 

He shut the book and set it aside, double checking his desk to make sure nothing was sitting out for Ezekiel to mess with. "Alright," he said, rolling up his sleeves. "I'm your man."

*

So it turned out there were a lot of trees in the heart of the Library. Like, a _lot_. 'Put Forest Park to shame' a lot. And they were all super excited to see Stone.

"Right," he said, keeping his arms tight to his sides as he followed Jenkins down what he really hoped was a known path, though he couldn't make one out. "So I'm familiar with the whole 'Merlin got trapped in a tree' legend, though I was always leanin' more towards the ones about it being a tower, or a cave." 

Jenkins looked quizzically over his shoulder at him. "You yourself have been trapped in a tree." 

"Yeah, like, last week," Stone pointed out, gesturing without thought, then yanking his hands back in when he nearly brushed against a nearby pine. The trees tended to get louder when he touched them, all nonsensical whispers like those he'd heard at the camp. "Anyway, how the hell is he still _there?_ Especially since this tree he's in is in the Library." 

Jenkins sighed, pausing to check the compass he carried. "Merlin was a . . . complicated fellow," he said. "And frankly, once Arthur was gone, unbearably cranky. We thought it best to just let him sleep." 

"'We,'" Stone said. He'd mostly gotten used to the idea that Jenkins had once been a knight of the Round Table. He was even pretty sure he knew how he and Dulaque had come about gaining their immortality when none of the others had, though not how they ended up on opposite sides of the "good versus evil" divide. But hearing Jenkins casually talk about _Merlin?_ As an actual person, one who had moods and irritated people? 

That was still weird. 

"Judson and I," Jenkins clarified, glancing back at Stone again. "And may I remind you, Mr. Stone, who your favorite chess partner is." 

". . . Touche." 

"The fact is," Jenkins said. "Merlin was well-known enough that over the years, his name has become something of a shorthand. So you see, we knew there was a tree here with 'Merlin' in it, but it was entirely possible that that simply meant it contained a powerful sorcerer. I had no reason to think that it was _the_ Merlin until — well. Until he told me." He looked around between the trees, consulted his compass again, then nodded and struck off with purpose. "Here we are." 

Stone looked at the craggy tree. "Huh." He leaned in a little, cocking his head. "It's pretty quiet. You sure this is it?" 

"Quite sure, Mr. Stone." 

Stone lifted his hand towards the bark, then hesitated. "You know there's no guarantee this will work, right?" he asked. "Even if I _can_ make a connection to it, the Grandfather tree had been trying to communicate for centuries. It'd taken dozens of people, not just me. And — and — and how long have these trees been down here, even? Are they connected to the trees in the real world? That's, like, a _millenium_ of cultural drift, in which the languages would have evolved independent — hey!" 

Jenkins had taken hold of his wrist, and planted his hand firmly on the bark. Stone was just turning his head to tell the man off when the world blurred sideways, and everything went dark.

*

"Mr. Stone?" Jenkins let go of Stone's wrist and stepped back. The man had gone rigid the moment his palm touched the bark, and now he stared silently over Jenkins' shoulder, his expression distant and tinged with melancholy.

He also didn't appear to be breathing. If Jenkins had managed to get Stone killed with this little gambit, Eve was never going to forgive him. 

He placed his hand on Stone's shoulder, leaning into the man's field of vision. "Mr. Stone. Can you hear me?" 

Stone swayed gently, like a branch in a breeze. His hand sank into the bark up to and then past his wrist, but his eyes slowly focussed, and his lips curled into a smile not entirely his own. 

"You got old." 

Jenkins dipped his chin in the faintest of bows. "Emrys." 

Stone — or the man in the tree currently possessing Stone — scoffed. "I see you haven't gotten any less stuffy over the years, you old prat." He lifted Stone's free hand, turning it over and flexing his fingers. "At least you're keeping decent company. I half expected you to fall in with some church crowd." 

"Mr. Stone is — he has his moments." 

" _Mr. Stone_ ," Merlin repeated, practically crowing. "Really, it's as though someone's doing it on purpose." He shook his — Stone's — head. "Still, it's nice to be brushing up against an old friend, even under as silly a name as 'Mr. Stone'." 

Jenkins blinked. Stone was one of Camelot's knights? He knew reincarnation was more than a simple myth, and even had a theory regarding the legendary return of King Arthur. And Stone would certainly make a more than adequate knight. Still, it took a moment to process, and while he was at it, Merlin was still babbling away, his Albion accent slowly overpowering Stone's native Oklahoman drawl. 

"Yes, well," Jenkins said, cutting him off mid-ramble. "I'm afraid names have rather changed since our day, sir. I myself currently go by 'Jenkins'." 

"Jenkins," Merlin repeated, then shook his head. "Nah, I like 'Mr. Stone' better. You should call yourself 'Forest Path'. Or 'Stream!'"

This was precisely the sort of thing that resulted in someone getting turned into a tree. 

"I'll take that under advisement, sir. Now, you had something you wanted to tell me?" 

"Right! Just a moment, Galahad. I'd rather not take up more of your Mr. Stone's headspace than I have to." His turned his head towards the tree and spoke a handful of words in a tongue so old that the last time Jenkins had heard it spoken, he'd not yet been full grown. Stone's eyes flashed yellow, and in the next moment he was stumbling backwards, tripping over his own feet, and Merlin stood in his place, looking just as he had back in the Annex — only dry. "Ugh, no," he said, looking down at himself. "This won't do at all." He spoke another of those ancient words, and when he looked back up at Jenkins, he wore the face of a young man not much older than Ezekiel Jones, all dark hair and large ears and insouciance. 

"Much better," he said. "Do you have any idea how irritating it is always running around all old?" He blinked, and had the grace to look a little sheepish. "Ah — yes, I suppose you do, actually." 

Stone had made it back to his feet by then, one hand pressed to the back of his head as though he were holding onto a nonexistent hat. "You're Merlin!" 

Merlin nodded, grinning. "Nice to see you, too, old friend." 

Stone shot a baffled look at Jenkins, who could only shrug in return. Merlin had always been fond of enigmatic one-liners. Something about having spent his formative years keeping his magic a secret. 

Stone brushed himself off, giving Merlin — and quite possibly the tree that had contained him — a wide berth. "So?" he asked. "You going to tell us what the big deal was? A rainstorm ain't exactly a Library's best friend." 

"Yes," Jenkins said. "Quaint though Mr. Stone's colloquialisms may be, he is right. That was a touch melodramatic, even for you." 

"Melodramatic?" Merlin shook his head. "I'd been trying to get through to you for weeks. For people working in a giant magical Library, you're about as sensitive to the stuff as — as —" 

Jenkins waited. Stone turned his head slightly, as though to prompt the sorcerer to continue. 

"— as bloody insensitive things!" Merlin huffed, then sighed. "Look, I've been in a tree for ages, alright? I'll think of a proper metaphor later. Anyway, you'd think between the two of you, you'd have at least managed to learn some patience or — hospitality or something." He looked at Stone. "Especially you!" 

"You don't know me," Stone said, warning clear in his voice. Merlin rolled his eyes. 

"Fine, not Stone-you, but I knew the other you perfectly well." Before either Stone or Jenkins could say anything further, he was stomping his way between the trees, grumbling about nobility and knights and reincarnation. He stopped a few yards away and turned to look back at them. "Well? Come on, then!" 

"If you're looking for the way back to the Library proper," Jenkins said, lifting his compass. "It's back that way." 

"Right." Merlin stomped past them in the direction Jenkins had indicated. "Come on, _then._ " 

Stone shot Jenkins a look. Jenkins could only shrug in return. 

"You've spent time as a tree," he noted. "Are you going to tell me it didn't make you a bit grumpy, too?" 

Stone sighed and started after Merlin, grumbling about sorcerers and knights and trees. 

"Oh yes," Jenkins told himself. "This is going to go just swimmingly."


	2. Chapter 2

"Is that — do you really have _Arthur's crown?_ " Merlin asked, ignoring the careful display work and scooping the artifact in question up before either Jenkins or Stone could stop him. "This has seen better days. Would it kill you to polish it?" 

Stone let out a pained squeak and grabbed it back, setting it gently onto its display pillow. "First off, it's a magical artifact. So yeah, it could possibly kill us." 

"I used to polish it once a week." 

" _Second_ ," Stone said around a tight jaw. "Tarnish provides a protective coating. If we were polishing it all the time, it'd wear away to nothing." 

Merlin frowned. "Really?" 

"It's not dirt," Stone said. "It's oxidation. Removing tarnish removes an actual layer of the metal itself." 

Merlin looked at the crown again, and burst into a grin. "I really wish I'd known that back in the day. 'I'm sorry, sire, I can't polish your armor today. The tarnish is _protective_.'" 

As much as Jenkins was enjoying this little walk down memory lane, there were more pressing matters to attend to. "Sir. If you don't mind. . . ?"

"A knight calling me 'sir'," Merlin said, still beaming. "Now I _really_ wish Arthur were here to hear this." He looked around, as though the Once and Future King might come wandering around the corner at any moment. "Is he around?" 

Jenkins and Stone exchanged glances again. 

"He's . . . not here, no," Jenkins said. 

"We thought he might show up when we took out Prospero," Stone offered. "But no dice. I guess it wasn't really 'England's greatest time of need' yet." 

Merlin looked between the two of them, confused. "But — we're past the point of prophecy, aren't we?" he asked. 

"You were in a _tree_ ," Stone said. "How do you even know that?" 

"Magic tree," Merlin corrected. 

"Yeah, I've been in a magic tree before. The only things I knew about were — tree things." 

Merlin offered a little shrug. "I'm a sorcerer. I still got the broad strokes. And anyway, Arthur's energy is _all over_ this place. Can't you feel it?" 

Stone pointed towards the crown. "That ain't the only artifact from Camelot we've got." 

"No, that isn't it," Merlin insisted. "Arthur himself is _here_. I know it." 

"If I may," Jenkins said, raising a hand. "You say that Mr. Stone is a reincarnation of someone from Camelot, yes?" 

Merlin nodded. Stone scowled. 

"And Mr. Stone, you are . . . unaware of your past life. Correct?" 

"Right," said Stone. 

"Then does it not follow that perhaps Arthur has similarly been reincarnated, and has simply not yet been revealed to us?" 

Merlin nodded slowly. "That does make sense," he said. "When Kilgharrah said he'd return, I always assumed it'd be, you know, _him_. All blonde hair and . . . muscles and things." He looked over Stone. "But if you're here, looking like that, then . . . yes, that could be exactly it." 

And it would fit perfectly with the theory that Jenkins had begun formulating after Prospero had been defeated, and Flynn and Eve had returned with Excalibur once again hale and whole. 

Stone, of course, was rather less convinced. He stepped up next to Jenkins, his back turned to Merlin. "Look — I know this guy was a friend of yours, Jenkins —" Jenkins began to interrupt, but Stone waved him down. "— A guy you knew, _fine_ , but still. How sure are we he's on the level?" He raised his eyebrows, twitching his head back at where Merlin stood, looking around and pretending he wasn't perfectly capable of hearing everything Stone said. "I mean, you said it yourself: you knew the tree contained _a_ Merlin. It's been more'n a thousand years. How sure are you that this is the right one?" 

Jenkins looked up at Merlin. Merlin looked back with a little shrug and smile. 

"I appreciate your concern, Mr. Stone. And your — let's call it 'caution' — around magic has been well-established. But I'm afraid this young man is exactly like the Merlin that I remember. Ears and all." 

Stone glanced over his shoulder. Merlin waved, and Stone gave him a strained smile before turning back to Jenkins. "Okay. But that don't mean he ain't up to no good, now, does it. Dulaque was the Lancelot you knew, too, right?" 

"Hang on," Merlin said. "What was that about Lancelot?" 

Stone turned around fully this time, his smile much more of a smirk. "He tried to bring back Camelot," he said. "By killing a bunch of people. And then broke history itself." 

Merlin looked from Stone to Jenkins, clearly appalled. 

"I'm afraid it's true, sir," Jenkins said. "It was my own fault. I should have considered the effect being brought back to life by the Grail would have on him." 

Stone shot Jenkins a look, frowning, but Merlin merely nodded, for once looking every bit as wise as he was reputed to be. 

"Do not blame yourself, Galahad," he said. "If I thought I could have a second chance with my own father, I might well have done the same." 

Jenkins looked away, feeling foolish. He'd had hundreds of years to get over what he'd done, after all. And had much bigger things to be concerned with now. 

Merlin seemed to sense his discomfort, and turned to look at Stone instead. "You don't trust me," he said, and Stone shrugged. "You did, once. Many of your lifetimes ago, I counted you among my closest friends. If you like, I can help you remember." 

Stone drew back a step. "I don't like magic." 

Merlin smiled sadly. "But you work with it every day," he said. He looked around the room they were in, from the Ark of the Covenant near the stairs to the stacks extending back seemingly into infinity. "Look around at all this. You've seen terrible things done by magic, I'm sure, but haven't you also seen wonders?" 

Stone looked over at Jenkins. Jenkins shook his head. "I can't answer this for you, Mr. Stone. You know I am as leery of the misuse of magic as you are." Well. Maybe not _that_ leery. Stone had some very deeply embedded trust issues, which he seemed at present to be directing at magic in general in order not to continue to do so at his fellow Librarians. "But I do believe you can trust Merlin." 

"It'll be a little spell," Merlin promised, spreading his hands. "I'll restore a couple of memories from your past life, and I'll reverse it the moment you ask." 

Stone folded his arms over his chest, clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation. He looked at Jenkins again, then seemed to deflate. "Fine," he said. "But I ain't doin' it for you. I'm doin' it for the Library." 

"You always were loyal," Merlin noted. He lifted his hand and spoke the incantation, and as his eyes glowed gold, he touched two fingers to Stone's forehead. 

Stone's head rocked back as though he'd been punched. He staggered into Jenkins, who managed to catch him by the elbows just as he sagged towards the floor. Stone's head wobbled bonelessly on his neck as Jenkins propped him against the nearby bookshelves. His eyes were half-lidded, and showing only whites. 

"Mr. Stone?" Jenkins asked, gripping the man by the chin. When Stone didn't respond, he shot a glare over his shoulder at Merlin. "I thought you said it was just a _little_ spell!" 

"It was!" Merlin looked appalled, and Jenkins was inclined to believe him. He shook Stone gently by the chin again. 

"Mr. Stone. Can you hear me?" That was the second time he'd had to ask that in under an hour. Eve was going to have his head. 

Stone stirred, one hand flailing at Jenkins' arm. He blinked a few times, then squinted, his brow furrowed in confusion before he seemed to reorient himself. He looked up at Jenkins. 

"You were so young," he said, his voice soft and filled with a sad sort of wonder. Then he winced and brought his hand to his head, and when he spoke again, it was with his much more accustomed irritated tone. "This is weird." 

"Yes, well." Jenkins took Stone's arm and hauled him back to his feet. "Most things relating to Camelot are, especially these days." 

Merlin leaned in, giving Stone a tentative smile. "Recognize me now?" 

Stone nodded fondly, a complete reversal of his previous trepidation. "You haven't changed a bit." He grimaced. "Not to say that you should have changed. Or that I wanted you to change. I — well. Look at Galahad." 

"Jenkins," Jenkins corrected with a sigh. "If you _don't_ mind. Galahad was —"

"Kind of a brat?" Stone offered. 

"I was going to go with 'pompous'," Merlin said. "Maybe 'holier-than-thou'. . . ."

Jenkins cleared his throat. "I would _very much_ prefer to go by 'Jenkins'." 

"Right!" Merlin clapped both Stone and Jenkins on the shoulder. "Now that's all cleared up, 'Jenkins' here and I need to have a little chat. If you don't mind, Gwaine?" 

Stone sighed and rubbed his head again. "Too. Damn. Weird."

*

It was, all in all, a _terrible_ chat. Merlin had not been aware of much while inside the tree, but he had managed to notice what he described as a 'catastrophic twist of fate' occurring, as far as he could tell, right about when Flynn and Eve had bound themselves to the Library. Which was concerning enough, considering that said binding ritual was of paramount importance to the continued operation of the Library itself, but it seemed the only way to fix the problem was for Jenkins to give up his personal brand of magic, and become a mortal man.

Jenkins hadn't been a mortal man in more than a thousand years. And he was pretty sure he remembered hating it. 

"It has to be your choice," Merlin said. "That's the nature of the Grail's magic." 

"There must be another way, Emrys. I know I've been around for centuries, but I've only just started learning to really _live_. I don't —" Jenkins looked away and swallowed. "I do not want to die." 

"I'm sorry," Merlin said. "This timeline is broken, Jenkins. It's up to you to fix it." 

"How long do we have?" 

"I don't know." Merlin shrugged. "A little while yet, but not too long. I don't think you have to _die_ yet, though. Just . . . be able to." 

Jenkins nodded, staring down at his hands. They were lightly calloused, as they'd always been, but unscarred. Could he continue his experiments, if he knew he could be injured? Could he be brave enough to still serve the Library, knowing he could die? 

"Think on it," Merlin advised. "Spend time with your friends. When you're ready, let me know." 

Jenkins looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. "And what are you going to do in the meantime?" 

Merlin grinned. "I'm in a giant magical building, full of all of the magical knowledge in history. What do you _think_ I'm going to do?" 

Jenkins sighed. "Try not to burn anything down. We've only just managed to set this place back to rights again." 

Merlin gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look, and headed off into the stacks. Jenkins considered following him for half a second — he didn't trust that look in the _least_ — but decided he'd rather take the sorcerer's advice. 

He went to find his friends. 

"I don't know," Stone was saying as Jenkins made his way back into the Annex. "The whole thing's given me one hell of a headache." 

"That would probably be the new memories," Jenkins noted. Stone straightened up from his slump on the stairs, and all three of the mortal Librarians gave him concerned looks. 

"So what did he say?" Ezekiel asked. 

"Can I meet him?" asked Cassandra. "Is he going to stick around? Do you think he'd teach me?" She popped up on her toes, as though to look over Jenkins' shoulder. "Where is he, anyway?" 

The smile Jenkins dredged up was a sad one, he knew. He could see it in the way that Cassandra's own crumpled at the edges. 

"Last I saw, he was headed for the Old English wing," Jenkins said. Stone scowled. 

"You left him alone?"

"He did create most of the artifacts there," Jenkins pointed out, then regarded Stone with a tilt of his head. "And you know now that he won't use them for evil, right?" 

Stone nodded, seemingly despite himself, and dropped his head into his hands. 

"Are you alright?" Jenkins asked. "Aside from the headache, that is. Your day so far has been . . . eventful." 

Stone huffed a laugh. "What, you mean sticking my hand in a tree, getting possessed by a sorcerer, and then having my past life as a mythical figure shoved back into my brain?" 

"Yeah, mate," Ezekiel said. "I'm guessing he means that." 

Stone spared him an eye roll, then shrugged. ". . . Yeah, actually. I mean, it's a head trip, and I need an aspirin. But — it could be worse." 

"What's it like?" Cassandra asked. "Remembering two lives? I'm pretty sure most people only get one." She tilted her head. "At a time, anyway." 

"Some of us don't need more than one," Ezekiel boasted. "I, for one, was a mythical figure by the time I was 18." 

Cassandra shook her head at him. Stone snorted. 

"It's just — weird, man," he said. "I grew up on Arthur stories. It was art and history, but with enough sword fights and adventure that I didn't get too much crap for it. I always used to pretend I was part of the Camelot court, but I'd pick Arthur, or — well, Lancelot. Not. . . ." He trailed off, looking off into space, then shook his head. "I feel like Merlin just rewrote my whole identity." 

"Or added a new one," Ezekiel pointed out. "Which would make it, what? Your seventh?" 

Cassandra whacked him in the arm. 

"It's not so strange, is it?" Jenkins asked. "You're loyal and brash, quick both of wit and in a fight. Hiding who you are from most of the world, only letting a handful of people see your true heart. . . . Certainly the knight I knew was a fair bit _sillier_ , and much less well-read. But I'd say Gwaine rather suits you." 

Stone's lip quirked throughout Jenkins' explanation, torn between irritation and amusement. "I wasn't _Gwaine_ , Jenkins." 

Jenkins frowned. "That is what Merlin called you, Mr. Stone." 

Stone shook his head. Amusement won. "He called me 'Gwen'." 

Jenkins blinked. Images of the poised young woman who'd ruled Camelot after Arthur's death at Camlann filled his mind. He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. 

It was rather more difficult to connect her to the cowboy scholar he'd gotten to know over the last few years. And not simply due to the gender change. 

"Yes," he said eventually. "I can see where that would — hmmm." 

"Gwen," Cassandra said, looking from Stone to Jenkins. "As in . . . 'evere?"

"Arthur's beloved wife and Queen of Camelot," Stone said, resigned to whatever teasing awaited him. 

"Guinevere," Ezekiel said. He was beaming. 

"She was rather a force to be reckoned with," Jenkins offered. "A warrior in her own right, and a woman of tremendous kindness and wisdom." 

Stone flashed him a small smile. "Thanks, Gala — Jenkins." 

"Oh man," Ezekiel shook his head with a grin. "This is perfect. You make a _great_ queen!" 

There was a long pause. Stone shot a glance at Jenkins. 

"I mean," he said. "Yeah. I kinda did." 

"Queen Guinevere ruled all of Albion after Arthur fell," Jenkins said. "For decades." 

"Really?!" Cassandra beamed. "That is _so_ cool!" 

Ezekiel looked a bit put out that his teasing hadn't landed the way he'd hoped, but he quickly moved past it. "That part was never in the legends." 

"Neither was Lancelot being resurrected, made immortal, and turning evil," Jenkins pointed out. "And yet." He spread his hands and the Librarians nodded, Stone looking almost crestfallen. 

"Dear, sweet Lancelot," he said wistfully, with a trace of an accent not his own. Jenkins frowned, studying the man's expression as it turned ever further inward. He reached out to place a hand on Stone's shoulder. 

"Mr. Stone," he said, putting a bit more emphasis on the name than usual. Stone shuddered faintly. 

"Mmhm." Stone pitched his voice slightly lower than normal. "Yeah. I'm good. Just . . . tryin' to fit the queen's memories together with what I already know." 

Jenkins nodded, making a mental note to keep checking in with Stone until Merlin's spell had been lifted. It seemed to be having much more of an effect than any of them had anticipated. 

He thought again about what Merlin had asked of him, then let his gaze drift over the other two Librarians. Cassandra continued to crow and squeal, delighted about the opportunity to meet the man who had had such a profound impact upon the field of mathemagics (though he certainly doubted Merlin would ever call it that). Ezekiel still wore his customary smirk, but unless Jenkins was mistaken, he also had a sharp eye on Stone, revealing a hint of the caring and observant young man he always tried to hide from the world. Flynn and Eve were due back at any moment; Flynn was sure to be even more excited about Merlin presence than even Cassandra was, and Eve would no doubt be as cautious as Stone. These people . . . his family . . . they were some of the smartest, most compassionate, and, yes, most _infuriating_ that Jenkins had had the pleasure to know in his extremely long life. 

And if Merlin was right, Jenkins would have to say goodbye to them all. And not in the way that he had become accustomed to. 

"Mr. Jenkins?" Cassandra asked, shaking him from his reverie. She had her brow raised, having apparently asked him a question. 

"I'm sorry, Ms. Cillian," Jenkins said. "I'm afraid I missed that." 

"What did Merlin want?" she repeated. "Stone said he wanted to talk to you." 

Jenkins dredged up a smile, along with the ghost of what was once his habitual aloofness. "A favor, Ms. Cillian. Nothing more." He nodded to the three of them, then turned to take his leave, heading for his lab and the comfort of his own experiments. Whatever he decided, he suspected he would not have time for them again in a long while. 

"He's lying," he heard Cassandra say, just as he'd reached the edge of earshot. He paused where he was, listening. 

"This is not good," said Ezekiel. Jenkins' hand tightened into a fist, and he closed his eyes and swallowed. A strange sensation began tugging at him, and for a moment he wondered if Merlin had made his decision for him, if his immortal life was bleeding away even now. 

"Nah, Jones," he heard Stone say as his vision narrowed to a pinpoint and he staggered into his lab. "It ain't good at all."


	3. Chapter 3

Stone had copped to having a headache, and technically, that was the truth. His head felt full to bursting, and he could feel his own pulse in his temples. He hadn't told the others that his body felt strange as well, wobbly and loose, as though it no longer fit him. He could feel his muscles wanting to tremble, but he shoved the urge down and forced himself to stand. "You two take care of Jenkins," he told Cassandra and Ezekiel. "I'm going to go find our prodigal wizard." 

Cassandra reached out as if to steady him, but Stone brushed her off. He felt a snap of static in the back of his hand where his skin brushed hers. Cassandra let out a startled gasp, and Stone grimaced. 

"Sorry," he said, shaking out his hand. At least his headache was easing off, now that he was standing. 

"That's okay." Cassandra frowned down at her arm, then looked up and shrugged. "Or, you know, kinda weird, but not your fault." 

Ezekiel gave them both quizzical looks. "You're both weird," he declared. 

"Static," Cassandra explained, and hesitantly poked at the metal of the stair rail. "Somehow we must have built up a charge. I don't think I've seen it happen in here before." 

Stone shrugged. "Maybe it's a side effect of Merlin showing up. All that extra ancient magic floating around." 

"I guess." Cassandra spread her hands, staring into the air around her head. "I don't see why there'd be a correlation between the age of the magic and a build-up of electrical charge, unless — Does Merlin shoot lightning?" 

A memory surfaced of a distant figure standing on the edge of a cliff above a gorge, backlit by the rising sun, blasting a Saxon army with energy and turning the tide of what seemed like a hopeless battle. Stone felt something swell in his chest, pride and grief in equal, agonizing measure. 

"Yeah," he said. "He's kind of hardcore, actually." 

Cassandra pursed her lips, still staring at her equations. "Huh." 

"He's not shooting lightning in the Library, is he?" Ezekiel asked. "Because I don't think Greek armor is going to help when it's a British guy doing the zapping." 

"Probably not," Cassandra agreed. "Anyway, didn't Arthur turn out to be Roman, not British?" 

"According to the painting," Stone said. "Which was a fake." He shrugged. "The legends are mostly Celtic and Norman." More fragments of memory surfaced: the hallways in the citadel in Camelot, the huts in Ealdor, the druid camps. . . . He shook his head, refocusing on the present. "I'll go make sure he isn't zapping anything," he said, and beat a hasty retreat before anyone could ask him if he was okay again. 

He didn't actually expect to find Merlin blasting away with lightning bolts — there was a dearth of Saxon armies in here, for one thing — but that didn't mean they didn't have to worry about what he was up to. _Something_ had prompted Merlin to contact Jenkins, and the return of a powerful being from antiquity had yet to spell anything good for the Library. The Merlin in Gwen's memories had never been anything but honorable and good, even for all the lying he'd had to do to keep his secret. But so was Gwen's Lancelot. 

Poor Lancelot. He really had been a good man, once. Loyal and noble to the very end — his first one, at least. Gwen had never entirely forgiven herself for asking him to protect Arthur when they went to stop the Dorocha, even having known he likely would have volunteered to be the sacrifice anyway. What must have become of him, that his resurrected life had taken such a dark turn? Though — he had still been fighting for Camelot in the end, hadn't he. For Arthur's legacy and the kingdom she had led in his name. 

And she couldn't fault him for that, though she abhorred his methods. This modern world was a strange and threatening place, full of war and hatred, and threats that even sorcerers like Morgana could never have even dreamt of. She could see where Lancelot would have longed for the old days, when magic was abundant, and brave men rode with honor to defend the innocent — 

Stone blinked himself back to awareness with a shudder, pushing Gwen's memories down as deeply as he could. Merlin had said this was supposed to be a small spell, a few memories. He was pretty sure that meant his past life shouldn't be learning things and forming new opinions. Guinevere's memories only seemed to be getting louder and more vivid, and they were starting to overlap with his own. He needed to find Merlin and have him remove the spell soon if he wanted to make sure he could stay Jacob Stone. 

He pushed himself off the wall and into the Library's main hall. The spell had served its purpose already. He should have had Merlin remove it immediately. He knew better than to trust magic. Uther was right — not his methods, his fear. Magic was much too dangerous to take lightly. And Gwen's time had long since passed. She needed to go. 

Though . . . maybe not before she found Arthur again. Stone paused and looked back over his shoulder towards the Annex. Merlin was certain he was here. She couldn't bear the thought of missing the chance to see him one more time, to hold him again and tell him how much she loved him. . . . 

Somewhere between the shelves of books, Excalibur let out a startled bark. Stone broke into a run. 

"Hey!" He barrelled down the aisles, trying to find the source of the sound. "Dammit, Merlin, I don't care if you are the greatest sorcerer who ever lived, you do not get to mess with Cal!" 

Cal came zipping around a corner a little ways ahead, making a beeline for Stone and swooping in to hover anxiously behind his shoulder. Stone spread his arms into a guard position, glowering at Merlin, who'd swung out around the bookcase after the sword, his eyes wide and fascinated. 

"That," Merlin said, pointing to Cal. "That is _new_." 

Cal whimpered, and Stone turned his head slightly, offering the sword soft, wordless noises of comfort. Merlin approached slowly, his hands lifted in surrender. 

"I knew the sword forged in the dragon's breath was powerful," he said. "But I never expected this." He stopped a respectful distance away. "I didn't mean to startle you, um, Cal. I was merely pleased to see you, and in such good shape." 

Stone lowered his arms slowly as Cal drifted past him, making curious snuffling noises. 

Merlin smiled and held out his hand. "You recognize me now, don't you." 

"Careful," Stone warned. "Wounds caused by Excalibur never heal." 

Merlin didn't withdraw his hand. "That part I knew," he said. "Arthur was killed by a magical blade just like it." Cal drew closer, and Merlin smiled. "That's it. It's me. It's your old pal Merlin." He gently touched Cal's hilt, and Cal darted back towards Stone again, growling. 

Stone felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "He doesn't seem to like you." 

"Ah," Merlin said, looking chagrined. "I did throw him into a lake. More than once. And thrust him into a stone. . . ." 

Stone's eyes widened. He remembered that stone, from both Buckingham Palace and the forest outside Camelot. He could see it in his mind's eye now, Arthur standing surrounded by his outcast people, hesitant but hopeful, wrapping one gloved hand around Cal's hilt. Gwen's heart had filled with love and pride watching him draw the sword forth, proving to everyone gathered and especially to himself that he was what she'd always known him to be: a true king. 

"That was you," Stone said slowly. Over the years after Camlann, Gwen had managed to work out many of the details of how Merlin had saved and bolstered Arthur through the years, but this one was new. "I thought the sword belonged to the first king of Camelot. Like the legends said." 

"Ah." Merlin shrugged. "Yeah, I lied. I had to do that a lot in those days. But Arthur _was_ the One True King. He just . . . needed a confidence boost." 

Stone looked at Merlin sideways. He really wanted to be angry, but he had to bite his lower lip to keep from smiling. It was all due to Gwen again; she had such fond memories of that sheepish, hapless look, and the way it had always flustered her husband. 

"You, Merlin," Gwen said, complete with her Camelot accent. "You are simply incorrigible." 

Merlin grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. She could practically hear Arthur now, storming through the halls and shouting his servant's name. 

" _Merlin!!!_ " 

Merlin stiffened, and Cal let out a yap of delight, zipping out to greet Flynn as he ran down the main hall. Stone shook himself again, remembering with a start why he'd gone looking for Merlin in the first place. Gwen hadn't just taken hold of his thoughts that time. He needed to get the spell reversed. 

"Wait —" he said, but was interrupted when Flynn came flailing into the aisle, already talking a mile a minute. 

"It's — it's you. It's actually you." Flynn gaped like a starstruck child. "I mean, I was expecting something different, someone more. . . ." He made hand gestures to indicate a long white beard and pointed hat, then flailed his hands at Merlin again. "But you! I mean, I can feel the power from here! I can — do you feel that, Stone?" Flynn flapped his hand in Stone's direction, never taking his eyes off Merlin. "I mean, you must! The man's practically _glowing_. Hey, is it true Stone's reincarnated from Camelot? Because, you know, I've always dreamed — and, I mean, of course I don't _really_ think that — but — but you know, I _did_ wield Excalibur to save England — the whole world, actually — and the legend _says_ — and even _Jenkins_ implied —" 

"Slow down, bubba." Stone caught the flapping hand, then let go when he was hit with another blast of static. Merlin really was kicking up some sort of electrical charge in here, wasn't he. 

At least it had shut Flynn up. He blinked at Stone, then stared down at his hand for a moment before looking back up at Merlin. 

"Yes," Merlin said, smiling at Flynn. "You were in Camelot. But no, you weren't Arthur." 

"I wasn't," Flynn said, and it wasn't so much a question as a confirmation. Stone looked closer at Flynn. There was something happening, but even reaching for Gwen's memories, he couldn't tell exactly what it was. 

"You were no less important," Merlin said with feeling. "Especially to me, old friend. Your council kept both Arthur and I alive on more than one occasion." 

Flyin ran his hands over his suit jacket, his right eyebrow arching inquisitively. Merlin stepped forward, offering Flynn his hand. 

"You were the smartest man I've ever met," he continued. "You were my guardian and my mentor. You made me the man I am today." 

Gwen smiled broadly at Flynn. "Gaius!"

*

Flynn was uncharacteristically subdued as they made their way back to the Annex. Stone made sure to keep close to the man, though with enough distance to keep from accidentally touching skin to skin again. Something had passed between them when they'd touched, something more than static. His headache had faded again, now no more than a faint discomfort in his temples, but Gwen had gotten louder and even more clear, and was quite anxious to talk to the old court physician. They had worked together on any number of occasions, especially when Camelot had been under attack, and she could easily recognize the old man around Flynn's edges, now she knew what to look for. No one in Camelot had had more arcane and esoteric knowledge than Gaius, and Flynn was no less of a knowledge sponge.

She wondered what he made of the Library, and the way it put Camelot's vaults to shame. Gaius had always been cautious with magic, even after she'd lifted Uther's old ban, though he could wield it well enough. It had to be strange for him, to see so much of it gathered in one place. 

Stone realized with a start that Gwen was thinking of Gaius as if he were actually present, and not just someone Flynn had once been. Which was fair, seeing as he was thinking of her that way. It was a bit hard to think of her as his past when she kept taking over. Had the spark somehow the physician's consciousness the same way in Flynn? It would explain why he'd gone so quiet. Stone stared at Flynn harder, folding his arms over his chest. He hoped Cassandra wasn't having any trouble with ancient memories of her own. He'd shocked her, too. He was going to have to be a lot more careful about who he touched from here on in. 

Stone's head spun a little as they entered the Annex, too full of thoughts — of people, apparently — to keep a solid hold of. He needed to talk to Merlin now, before he missed his chance again. He couldn't rely on Gwen to remember; she was as overwhelmed as he was, and distracted by every new thing they encountered. It seemed to her she'd been asleep for ages, and had woken to a whole new world. Nothing was as it had been, save for Merlin, and she clutched at anything even remotely familiar. Really, it was a wonder either of them was still managing to put one foot in front of the other. 

"Woah there, cowboy." Baird caught Stone by the arm as he stumbled, steadying him back on his feet. Stone jerked away without thinking, his eyes widening as his bare forearm brushed against hers. 

This was no mere spark. The connection was instant and complete. Gwen stared up at shining blonde hair and wide blue eyes and soft pink lips that she knew intimately, for all their shape had changed. And those wide blue eyes stared right back at her, full of recognition, and those soft pink lips formed her name. 

"Guinevere." 

" _Arthur._ " 

Arthur's arms came up around her, and she let herself be pulled into his chest. Her own heaved in anticipation as he tilted up her chin. Her lips parted — 

"Nope!" 

Ezekiel pushed them apart, and the loss of contact sent Stone reeling. Baird stumbled back into the table, her eyes as round as saucers. 

"What the hell was that?!"

Stone shook his head and stepped towards her, only to run into Ezekiel's outstretched hand. 

"That," Ezekiel said, "was a magical mind-whammy. Which means no consent, which means no kissing for either of you!" 

"Get off me," Stone growled, grabbing Ezekiel's wrist before he could think the motion through. He froze, terrified — he was patient zero, and he couldn't stop _infecting_ people — but nothing happened. There was no spark, no second personality blooming behind Ezekiel's eyes. "Wait. You're not from Camelot." 

"No, I'm from Australia," Ezekiel said, tugging his arm free. "Which _Stone_ already knows." 

" _What is going on?!_ " Baird asked again, holding her head. "Why do I have the urge to tell the new guy to muck out the stables? _We don't even have stables_." 

"Of course we do," Flynn said, in a strange mix of his own voice and that of the man he had been, many lifetimes ago, then frowned at himself. "That's not helping." 

"No," Baird said. "It's really not." 

Merlin took Stone's hand, hanging on when he tried to flinch away, and ran his fingers over Stone's palm. A series of tiny sparks danced wherever Merlin touched, making Stone twitch, and Gwen shudder in and out of the front of his — their? — mind. 

"My spell," Merlin said, looking up and searching Gwen's — Stone's — face. "It's gone . . . really, _really_ wrong." HIs eyes flashed gold, and they felt the air pressure shift against their skin, but still Jacob Stone and Guinevere pressed tight together in a single mind, the edges between them blurring now in earnest. "I can't remove it." 

"It's okay, Merlin," Gwen said. "We know you didn't mean it." Her soft voice and accent shifted seamlessly into Stone's. "Magic's dangerous," he said. "It's runnin' wild these days. It doesn't work like you remember." 

Merlin shook his head. "No, I know that. I felt it, even in the tree. But this isn't. . . ." He trailed off and grabbed Stone's other hand, holding them both as though weighing them. After a moment he let go of the left one and shoved up Stone's right sleeve, revealing the remnants of the Shangri-La tattoo. "What is this?" 

"Soul magic, young warlock," a voice said from the stairs. They all looked up to see Cassandra — or someone who was no longer entirely Cassandra — descending. 

"Kilgharrah?" Merlin let go of Stone's arm and hurried over. "I had no idea dragons reincarnated." 

"They seldom do," Kilgharrah said. "Especially in human form. This body has struggled to contain my soul." Cassandra smiled, holding out a hand and letting a tiny blue flame dance over her palm. "But it has become much stronger for it." 

"Cassandra's the Great Dragon," Arthur — or Baird — or both, quite possibly — looked gobsmacked. "You know, actually that makes sense." 

"Literally none of this makes any sense," Ezekiel said. 

"And what would you know of it," Kilgharrah asked, puffing up Cassandra's chest. "This is but your very first lifetime." 

Flynn — Gaius — stepped up to Stone's side, holding out a hand. Stone swallowed, and Gwen held up their arm so Gaius could look at the strange runes inscribed there. "Soul magic from Shangri-La," Gaius said, looking from the tattoo to Stone's eyes. "And tree magic from an ancient forest. You have not lived this life by halves, have you, my dear." 

"It's hard to top being queen," Gwen said with a small smile. "We had to get creative." She watched Arthur-and-Baird; they looked as though they wanted to collapse in shock, even as Merlin continued to consult with the Great Dragon. 

Or, more likely, _because_ Merlin was consulting with the Great Dragon. 

"Go to him," Gaius advised. Stone looked up and saw not a hint of jealousy in Flynn's eyes, only a sort of fatherly concern. He wondered how much of that was Gaius, and how much was actually Flynn. "He has always been stronger with you by his side." 

Gwen nodded despite Stone's trepidations, and hurried to her love's side, taking his hand and tugging him towards a nearby alcove. The others were all too preoccupied; none but Gaius watched them go. 

"Guinevere," Arthur said, and Baird kicked back in with "Stone. This is too weird." 

"Makes perfect sense to me," Stone said. "You're the one the Lake gave Excalibur back to, right?" 

"I'm not a king!" 

"You are a soldier, though," Stone said. "And a warrior. And definitely a leader." Gwen smiled. " _Our_ leader. Once and future." She leaned in a little, a giddy laugh on her lips. "The future is now, my darling. You must believe in yourself. Just as those of us who love you have always believed in you." 

Arthur smiled back, his hand coming up to caress Gwen's cheek. "You always were the wisest of my councilors." He shook his head and chuckled. "But — look at you. This hair! You look as though you've been sleeping on it for a week." 

"Don't be rude," Gwen said, her hand lifting self-consciously to Stone's carefully spiked hair. "An ice giant once called me rock-star handsome." 

Arthur laughed. "My handsome wife." 

"My husband," said Gwen. "You are as beautiful in this life as you were in the one we shared." She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I've missed you so much, Arthur. Every minute for a thousand years, I missed you." 

"Hush." Arthur stroked the short, prickly hairs at the back of her neck. "We've found each other again. That's all that matters." 

"Even if I am — handsome." 

"Even," Arthur said. "If you were a troll." 

Gwen let out a full-throated laugh before slapping her hand over her mouth. "Don't," she pleaded. "Ezekiel was right. These aren't our bodies. We have no right to use them this way." 

"And mentioning my dear departed step-mother is simply too intoxicating to resist?" Arthur teased. He held her close, rubbing her back and resting his chin against the top of her head. "This doesn't feel wrong to me." 

"And your hostess?" 

"Is. . . ." Arthur paused, the hand on her back stilling. ". . . Quiet." 

Gwen reached for Stone, but wasn't sure where her own mind and memories ended anymore and his began. All she knew was that no part of her wanted this embrace to end. "And mine," she said at length. "Perhaps they understand how long we've been waiting." 

"Perhaps," said Arthur, "they've been waiting, too." 

"I can't believe you're really here," Gwen said, closing her eyes and revelling in Arthur's warmth. "And we owe it all the Merlin." 

"To Merlin," Arthur agreed. "The servant so bumbling he's even managed to screw up his gift for sorcery." 

Gwen pressed her face into his neck and laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's, like, basically canon that Flynn is Arthur, but I like my version better. :P
> 
> Also, pronouns are hard.


	4. Chapter 4

Being a Librarian had come with its share of extremely weird days. Ezekiel was pretty sure that this one, though, would go down in the history books. 

He'd never been happier to truly be the one, the _only_ , Ezekiel Jones. 

Cassandra, who was apparently also a dragon, was still pontificating on the subject of soul magic. Flynn, who was apparently also an old timey doctor, was examining the equally old timey card catalog, and exclaiming things like "germ theory?! Fascinating!" as he went. Merlin, who was already an old timey sorcerer and had apparently an hour ago also been a tree, was clutching at his hair and looking around like he was hoping someone would tell him this wasn't actually entirely his fault. Jenkins — 

Jenkins had disappeared into his lab not long before everything had gone extra-funky, and Ezekiel hadn't seen him since. So he was going to go ahead and call that "priority one." 

Or maybe "priority two", as Baird and Stone had also apparently wandered off, and Ezekiel was pretty sure that was because the old timey king and queen currently taking over their brains wanted alone time to snuggle. And that was Not Okay. 

"Time out!" he shouted, holding up his hands in a T and aggressively tapping it until everyone looked up at him. "Has anyone seen Colonel Baird and Stone?" 

Flynn, Cassandra, and Merlin all looked around, apparently just noticing that Ezekiel was there, let alone that Stone and Baird weren't. 

"Arthur and his queen," Cassandra said, sounding pompous and enigmatic and entirely too amused, all at once. "With soul magic running rampant, that pair could get up to trouble indeed." 

"Found them!" Jenkins called from the hall leading away under the stairs. Ezekiel relaxed. That was all three missing people accounted for. "Damn, you too!" Jenkins said. "Get a room!" 

Or not, since apparently Jenkins had managed to lose his mind, too. Could you even be reincarnated if you were already immortal? 

There came a flash of light and an odd sort of _fwoomp_ noise from the hall, and Jenkins let out a very un-Jenkins-y squawk. He stumbled into the Annex proper, followed by a bewildered pair who were really, _really_ not Baird and Stone. 

"Arthur!" Merlin cried, with a perfect blend of joy and horror. "Gwen!" 

"Merlin," The blonde man wearing Baird's t-shirt and trousers was very nearly whining. The black woman in Stone's henley and jeans grimaced sheepishly. 

"We didn't mean to." 

Everyone, Ezekiel included he was sad to say, gaped at the pair. Everyone except Merlin, who strode right up to Arthur, looking like he wanted to cry — and smacked him across the face. 

" _Merlin!_ " Arthur clutched his cheek and stared at the sorcerer, fuming. 

"You absolute — dollop-headed — clot-poling — _arse!_ " 

"Merlin, I am your _king_ —" 

"Not really, mate," Ezekiel said, finally recovering from the shock of Baird and Stone apparently having been . . . transformed? Replaced? by their past selves. "Your kingdom's long gone. And England's run by a parliamentary democracy now." 

"You're still a king to me," Gwen said, patting Arthur's arm. 

"What. The _hell_. Is an 'England'?" asked Arthur, unmollified. 

Scratch that. Baird and Stone had apparently been completely obliterated by their past selves. 

Jenkins let out an uncomfortable giggle. 

"Right." Ezekiel clapped his hands. "Since I'm the only unenchanted Librarian left, that means I'm in charge." He smirked at the royal couple. "Sorry, highnesses. And as the de facto leader, I have just one very important question." He rounded on Merlin. "What did you do to Mr. Jenkins?" 

"What?" Merlin asked, frowning. "I didn't do anything." 

Jenkins let out another awkward laugh. 

"Right?" he said, spreading his hands. "I'm obviously fine. I've been in my lab all day. No reason to think I'm involved in . . . whatever this junk is." 

"Yeah," Merlin said slowly, shaking his head. "I didn't do whatever that is." 

"Wild soul magic," Cassandra mused. "But is he the side-effect, or the source?" 

"I finally get it," said Arthur, nodding. " _This_ is why my father outlawed magic." 

Gwen whacked him on the arm. 

"To have such varied and extreme effects," Flynn mused, "this enchantment must come from someone very powerful. I'm not certain it could be anyone _but_ you, Merlin." 

"I told you guys," Jenkins said, backing slowly out of the room with his hands raised. "I'm totally fine. I definitely already knew Merlin was here, and I'm not freaking out about that at _all._ " 

Before anyone could say another word, an alarm started to blare. Everyone jumped, and Arthur and Gwen both drew swords from the umbrella stand by the back door, just as Baird and Stone had the first time Flynn had come through it unannounced. 

"The perimeter alarm," Ezekiel explained. He really was the last Librarian standing here, wasn't he. He'd always known he would be. "Someone's trying to get in." 

Jenkins let out a tiny 'eep' and sidled away as though to slip out the back. Gwen grabbed him by the arm and glared him down. 

"Not now, Galahad." 

Arthur lowered his sword, but didn't look any less ready to use it. He turned to Ezekiel. "How do we check the perimeter?" 

Ezekiel smiled. It was fun getting to order Baird around, even if this bloke hardly looked like her. "Magic mirror," he said, and set it to view the front entrance. Arthur looked faintly disgusted, but peered into the mirror anyway. 

"It's just a single peasant," he said. "Wearing . . . rags?" 

"Arthur," Gwen said, coming up behind him. "Don't be rude." 

Arthur glanced up at her and shrugged. "He's just flailing about." He looked to Ezekiel. "Do you know him?" 

Ezekiel peered at the man in the mirror, a scruffy looking white guy wearing a t-shirt for some metal band. He was, in fact, mostly just flailing around. "Nah, mate. Never seen him before. We're not even expecting a pizza." 

Arthur frowned, shaking his head slightly. 

"Oh my god," Ezekiel said. "You don't know what pizza is?!" 

"Focus, young man," said Cassandra. 

"He's trying to say something." Merlin leaned past Arthur's shoulder. "Here, hang on, I think I can get us some sound." 

"He's going away," Gwen said. There was quite a crowd around the mirror now. Ezekiel hoped no one accidentally stabbed themselves on her or Arthur's swords. 

"No, there he is," Flynn said. "He's made himself some sort of sign —" 

The feed to the magic mirror blurred like an old television, and then cut out. 

"Oh noooo," Jenkins said, stepping back from the mirror. "The magic mirrorrrrrr! Ah well, these things are totally unreliable anyway. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about." 

Ezekiel was now even more convinced that this was definitely something to worry about. If he could just figure out how a random bloke outside was connected to reincarnation or Arthurian legend. Or whatever was going on with Jenkins. 

"There is something familiar about all this," Arthur murmured, looking from the mirror to Jenkins and back again. Gwen and Merlin looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. 

"There is?!" Merlin asked. 

"There's nothing familiar about _any_ of this," said Gwen. 

"No, there is." Arthur rubbed his chin. "Galahad behaving oddly. A stranger at the gate. . . ." 

"Perhaps it is not from your own memory, sire," Flynn suggested. "But that of the woman you had, until very recently, become." 

"You may be right, Gaius. But she seems to be dormant now, ever since Gwen and I. . . ." He flushed and grimaced, shooting an apologetic glance at Ezekiel. "We should have listened to you, young man. We should not have kissed." 

"Not really why I thought it was a bad idea," Ezekiel said. "But yeah. You _really_ shouldn't have." 

"True love's kiss?" Merlin frowned. Cassandra chuckled. 

"It is said to be tremendously powerful," Flynn mused. "But — forgive me, sire. Actually _transforming_ you seems a bit much." 

Ezekiel brightened. "You're a genius, not-Flynn!" He turned to Arthur, gesturing to Flynn with his head. "You just need to kiss him." 

Arthur shook his head. Flynn drew his shoulders back, his brows drawing together. "I beg your pardon?" 

"True love's kiss," Ezekiel said. "To change him back into Baird!" 

"I don't think. . . ." Arthur shot a glance at Flynn. "No offense, Gaius, but. . . ."

"Indeed, my lord," Flynn said. "Nor me." 

"But you do!" Ezekiel insisted. "I mean, Flynn-you loves Baird-him. They're bound together and to the Library. They're practically married!" 

Gwen pressed her fingers to her mouth, frowning. "It . . . It could be worth a shot," she said. Arthur gave her a wild-eyed look, and she shrugged. "It certainly couldn't _hurt_ , could it?" 

Arthur nodded at her a bit manically. "I think maybe it could, actually." 

"We've no other ideas, Arthur," Merlin said. 

"Just close your eyes and think of England," Jenkins suggested. Arthur rounded on him. 

"I still don't know what that is!" 

Cassandra was still laughing. 

"It may be the only way, sire," Flynn said, stepping up in front of the distressed king. "We need to know what Colonel Baird knew about the stranger." Arthur cast around for assistance, his eyes landing on Ezekiel. 

"Arthur," Ezekiel said, pouring all his concern about Baird and the others into his face. "Please." 

Arthur deflated. He set his sword down on the table, and turned to Flynn. "You are never to speak of this to _anyone_." 

"We've both been dead for centuries, sire," Flynn said. "Whom would I tell?" 

Arthur sighed heavily through his nose, pursed his lips, and leaned in. 

It was quite possibly the most awkward, least passionate kiss Ezekiel had ever seen, and that included when Susie Strathmore kissed Jim Desmond in Year 7 on a dare and then promptly announced she was gay. 

Nothing happened. 

"Whelp," Jenkins said. "That's a wash." 

Arthur looked back at Ezekiel. "I'm sorry." He looked as though he truly meant it. Ezekiel was beginning to see how he'd ended up with a reputation as a great king. 

Ezekiel shook that thought — and the one about possibly never getting Baird or Stone back at all — off with his characteristic swagger. "It's for the best," he decided. "I had no idea who Stone could kiss. It's not like he can just make out with a painting or something." 

"Stone has no love," Gwen said, expression distant. "That's so sad." 

"Not everyone is destined for great love, your highness," Cassandra said. "That is simply the way of the world." 

Everyone fell silent as they let that sink in. 

"Oh hey," Jenkins said. "The mirror's back on! And it looks like the stranger is gone. Crisis averted! Just another wacky day in the Library." 

Everyone turned to stare at him, and his smile drooped by degrees. 

"I hope that young man is alright," Gwen said softly. "He seemed quite distressed." 

"Aw." Jenkins tilted his head at her. "You're sweet."

*

Outside, Jenkins dropped his cardboard sign and stared despondently up at the Library's front entrance.

"I'm Jenkins," he said one last time, all the energy gone from his voice. Even if the others hadn't realized something was off, surely _Merlin_ should have. Was this why he'd returned in the first place? Did Jeff have nefarious plans for the Library that only a revocation of Jenkins' immortality could have stopped? 

What the _hell_ was he supposed to do now?

*

Research.

It had always been Merlin's least favorite part of problem solving. Plan? Sure, he'd do that! Not always _well_ , mind you, but he could at least come up with an idea. Practice was tedious, but he'd devote an entire night to animating figurative artwork or blowing his way out of a cave-in if he had to. And actually _acting_ on that planning and practice? That was where Merlin shone. He'd always done his very best work by the seat of his pants. 

But research? Research was the pits. 

"Cheer up, Merlin," Gaius said, looking unbearably cheerful. Or perhaps that was just his current incarnation's regular face. This was all extremely strange, even for him. "We have more resources at our disposal here than any sorcerer of our time could have possibly dreamed. We're certain to find the solution." 

Merlin looked despairingly up at the bookshelf in front of him. It fairly hummed with magical energy, and stretched up well above his reach, densely packed with books. Elsewhere in the Library, the others were surely facing exactly the same dilemma. They'd split up to cover more ground, but they were still only a handful of people. "That's the problem, Gaius. We're looking for one particular magic needle in an actual mountain of other magic needles. And all while these people here, your future selves, they're . . . fading away. I'm not even sure poor Mr. Stone or the Colonel exist anymore, and you know Gwen and Arthur would never forgive themselves for replacing them. And — I did that!" 

Gaius gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "You couldn't have known of Stone's soul magic, Merlin. The man tried to keep it secret even from his colleagues. He'd never have told you of it." 

"I should have sensed it," Merlin insisted. "I just — I saw Gwen in there, under all those layers of all those lives. She was _right there_. And — I missed her. I've missed all of you so much, you can't imagine." 

Gaius nodded. "You're right; I can't imagine it. I only had to watch the world I knew fade and the people I loved age and pass the one time. To do it again and again . . . I am surprised to see that Sir Galahad has survived it for so long." 

"Jenkins," Merlin corrected. "He prefers 'Jenkins' now. Maybe that's how he kept going. He reinvented himself. Left the 'Pure Knight' behind when Camelot fell." 

"It seems to have served him well," Gaius said. "He's made so many friends here. I worried about him, you know, holding himself apart as he did. I know he was terribly young when he was knighted, but he wasn't any younger than Mordred, and that young man was welcomed just fine." 

Merlin felt his expression turn dark. "Let's not talk about Mordred." 

"Ah," Gaius said, and grimaced apologetically. "Of course. We should leave the past in the past." He chuckled at the irony of his statement. "Perhaps I'll ask Jenkins for advice on surviving immortality . . . or not. My present incarnation is not well versed in accepting any ideas but his own." 

"Just don't follow my example," Merlin said. "Hiding in a tree? Not recommended." He looked over at Gaius, studying his new face. "He's still in there, right? Flynn, I mean?" 

"Of course I am," Gaius scoffed, and the transition of tone, of word choice, even of the way he held his shoulders was so abrupt it nearly gave Merlin whiplash. "Took me a minute to get my bearings again — it's hard integrating memories from someone who lived more than twice as long as you have so far — but I didn't go anywhere." He tilted his head at Merlin. "I just kinda figured you'd prefer talking to your old mentor right now, rather than a young maverick like me." 

Merlin snorted at Flynn's bluster. "What do you think, then, maverick? What can we use to get your friends back?" 

Flynn ran his hand through his hair and down his cheek, looking over the books in front of them. "Nothing from the Holy Roman Empire, that's for sure." He spun in place, his suit jacket flaring. "What was I thinking?! This is a blend of Ancient Briton and Early Chinese magic. What do those two things have in common?" 

Merlin shook his head. "They traded with Saxons?" 

"Dragons!" Flynn threw his hands wide, then frowned. ". . . Who hate each other. The Eastern and Western dragons have been engaged in a blood feud for — well. Ever, basically. _But_. That doesn't mean we can't use their shared history. If only we still had our language expert! Those texts are next to impossible to read if you're not a dragonlord, and those went extinct ages ago. . . ."

Merlin wondered if he could get Flynn to let Gaius back out. The speed at which Flynn voiced his thought process was dizzying. 

"I'm a dragonlord," he said. "And Kilgharrah's running around in the redhead." 

"You are?" Flynn asked, blinking. "You _are_. And she — he? — is! I've been keeping Gaius compartmentalized so we didn't end up mixing and losing ourselves, but that means I'm missing _his_ knowledge. You're a dragonlord! And Cassandra is a dragon! We'll get this fixed and get Eve back in no time!" 

"Um, guys?" Ezekiel called from somewhere down the stacks. 

"Over here, Jones!" Flynn shouted back. "We have a lead!" 

"Awesome. So do we." Ezekiel appeared at the end of the aisle, holding a large book and dragging Jenkins by the arm. "Meet Jeff. Jeff has something to tell you." 

Jenkins — or "Jeff", rather — balked. "Do I have to? You guys seem like you're already dealing with a _lot_." 

"Jeff," Flynn said. "Jeff?" He peered at Jenkins, circling him. "But — no. This shouldn't happen for another month. Eve was very clear: it went trees, Safety Town, Civil War ghosts, _then_ Jeff." 

Ezekiel stared. "What." 

"I can come back later," Jeff offered. "No problem at all." 

Merlin looked at Flynn more closely, trying to make out the specific currents of magic surrounding him. There was the memory spell, of course, tinted with both Merlin's own magic and the strange glow of the Chinese soul-work. And there was a bright glow connected directly to the Library itself that nearly drowned anything else out. But under that, buried deep in layers of Flynn's own personal energies, was something else. Something Merlin had rarely seen before. 

Something that had woken him from his long, tree-trapped slumber. 

"It's you! You're the catastrophic twist of fate!" 

Flynn spun around, leading with his head. Merlin was sure he was going to topple over, but somehow he kept his balance. "I beg your pardon?" 

"What did you do?" Merlin demanded. "You bent the timeline. It's all . . . tangled up. That's why the memory spell went strange. It never even should have touched the soul magic. But you've got magic all . . . _warped!_ " 

"I do not!" Flynn protested. "We were careful! We only changed one thing. Nicole promised to keep everything else the same. I'm _very good_ at time travel!" 

"You tried to time travel again?" Ezekiel asked. "Why aren't you locked in another closet, then?"

"You know what?" Jeff started slowly backing away. "You all are busy, I get that. We'll just go deal with Asmodeus ourselves. Right, Ezekiel?" 

Merlin hadn't thought there was anything that could be larger and more pressing than the reshaping of time. He was wrong. 

"You'll deal with _who?!_ "

"Whom," Flynn said. "You know what? It's not important." 

From deep in the Library came the sound of a roar. 

And Arthur screaming.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't the first time Merlin had seen Arthur covered in cobwebs, but he could have done without the reminder of the first time he'd saved the man's life. Seeing Kilgharrah trapped the same way, though, that was just kind of hilarious. 

"Oh god," Jeff said. "Are they dead? Did I get King Arthur and Cassandra Cillian killed?!" 

Huh. He seemed almost more distraught about Cassandra. These Librarians had clearly made quite the impression on this time period, hadn't they. 

"No," Flynn said, peering through the cobwebs at Arthur's face. "I don't think you did." 

"They're okay?" asked Ezekiel. His hands hovered around Cassandra, as though unsure if he should touch her. 

"They're fine," Merlin said. "Just unconscious. It's sort of like a hibernation spell." He smirked tiredly at Arthur's unseeing face. "Just like old times, eh, Arthur? You get knocked out just in time to completely miss seeing me save the day." 

"So that's how you did it." 

All four of them spun around, Jeff squeaking in surprise. Merlin grinned. 

"It's easy to keep a secret when the person you're keeping it from has a tendency to get knocked round the head once a week." 

Gwen shook her head, stepping out from behind the a nearby bookcase. "Yes, well. My love always has been somewhat lacking when it comes to survival instincts." 

"Weren't you the one who used to run out into the courtyard during monster attacks?" Merlin asked. 

"As a serving girl," Gwen said. "As a queen I learned to _hide_ when necessary, so as not to leave my people without a leader." 

Merlin shook his head fondly. "I missed you so much." 

Gwen's expression fell. "And I forgot you. I'm so sorry, Merlin." 

"You were supposed to. You had other lives to live." 

"I suppose I did." Gwen looked down at herself, still clad in Stone's clothes, though they fit strangely. She'd used one of his leather bracelets to tie back her hair, Merlin noticed. "I must say, this one's clothes are much more comfortable than what I used to wear. There's so much more stretch." She rolled her shoulders and arched her back. "It's like I'm hardly wearing anything at all." She looked at Jeff and sighed. "And now poor Galahad is drooling. Have we worked out what's wrong with him, yet?" 

"He's been bodied," Flynn said. "Swap-bodied. Body-swapped. He's actually some guy named Jeff." 

"Yo," said Jeff. "I just want to say, I encourage any more stretching you might want to do." 

Ezekiel elbowed him in the ribs. 

"Ah," Gwen said. She didn't much look like she followed that attempt at an explanation, but was willing to let it go for the time being. 

"We've got bigger problems," Ezekiel said, holding up some sort of small, rectangular device. 

"Right," Flynn said. "Asmodeus." 

"That too," said Ezekiel. "But I meant someone's coming in through the back door."

*

"I have fought beside the greatest of warriors, but none braver than you," Jenkins told the D&D group, and gave a small chuckle. "Now, go. I have an evil book I must find."

He watched them go, wondering at how quickly the three of them had managed to make their way into his heart. Clearly the Librarians had been a terrible influence on him. And, yes, alright, Jeff's friends had proven themselves to be remarkable in their own ways as well. 

Jenkins steeled himself for whatever disaster Asmodeus — or for that matter, Merlin — had managed to wreak while he'd been otherwise occupied. Sure, Merlin was the one who had trapped the Knight of Hell in the first place, but the sorcerer had also spent a millenium in a tree, and as far as Jenkins knew, had already managed to bungle the spell on Stone to boot. He was, quite frankly, a little bit rusty. 

There was no amount of steeling that could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him when he opened the door, however. Flynn with Excalibur? Practically a daily occurence. A sad-looking, disheveled young man wearing Jenkins' suit? New, but not at all unexpected. 

Queen Guinevere in an ill-fitting modern top and jeans, holding a rapier to Jenkins' throat? _Nothing_ could have prepared him for that glorious sight. 

"My Lady," he breathed, and — rapier or no — dropped to one knee. 

"Noble knight," Gwen said fondly. " _Please_ stand up." 

Jenkins obeyed, smoothing Jeff's ridiculous t-shirt. "Of course, madam." 

"That's Jenkins, right?" Ezekiel asked Flynn, _sotto voce_. Flynn gave a half-shrug and a nod. 

Jenkins looked to the unfamiliar young man eying potential exits and trying to edge his way away from the crowd. "Jeff, I presume?" 

Jeff waved weakly. "Hi, dude." 

"Where have you been?" Flynn asked. 

"It's . . . a long story." Jenkins took stock of the group before him. They were missing at least a couple people. "Where are Ms. Cillian and the Colonel?" 

"Fine," Flynn said. "Well. Cobwebbed." 

"Possessed," Ezekiel said. 

"Arthured," said Merlin. 

Jenkins frowned. "I beg your pardon?" 

"It's a long story," Gwen said. Jenkins noted the familiar jewelry adorning her wrists and hair, and frowned. 

"Merlin's memory spell went dangerously awry, transforming them into their past-life selves?" he guessed. "I can only presume you've replaced Mr. Stone, after all." 

"Apparently it's not that long," Merlin said. 

"There's time travel, too." Jeff pointed accusingly at Flynn. "Which is all totally worse than what I did." 

Jenkins glared at him, and Jeff fairly shrivelled. 

"We'll get to all that," Flynn said. "For now, we need to focus on Asmodeus." 

"Yes, I've been working on that since Jeff's friends were able to positively identify the book Jeff used," Jenkins said. "It should be simple enough to re-trap him, since you have the book in hand. We simply need to find Asmodeus, not get — er, 'cobwebbed' — and use the gemstone." 

"Which gemstone?" Ezekiel asked. 

"The one in the book," Jenkins said. 

Ezekiel held up the book and shook his head. "There's no gemstone here, mate. I would have noticed." 

"Yeeeeah," Jeff said. "That gemstone. Kinda small? Reddish color?" 

Jenkins went cold. "Jeff. You didn't." 

Jeff grimaced. "I kiiiiiiinda gave it to my mom." 

"How have you all not destroyed the world yet?" Merlin wondered. 

Gwen whacked him on the arm. "Be nice, Merlin. I've sure we've caught them on a bad week." 

"You give us too much credit, my Lady," Jenkins said. "I have no idea how we've managed not to destroy the world yet." 

"Hey," Flynn said. "We're not the ones who turned Eve and Stone into Arthur and Guinevere." 

Eve was Arthur, then. Jenkins was surprised, but only barely. It made sense; if it weren't Flynn, then she was the obvious choice. He wondered who Cassandra had been in Camelot. 

"Because you lot went back in time and made magic go all wonky," Merlin was saying. 

" _Anyway_ ," said Ezekiel. "Asmodeus, still on the loose. Do I have to take charge again?" 

"Oh lord," Jenkins muttered. "We really are doomed." 

It was likely for the best that everyone ignored him. 

"Asmodeus will have gone after the gemstone," Merlin said. "He won't be at full power until he has it. That buys us some time." 

"Is that why he only put the others in hibernation?" Gwen asked. "Because he's not yet at full power?" 

"Ah," Jenkins said. "Have you ever seen a spider wrap a fly in silk on its web?" 

Gwen's eyes went wide, and she pressed one hand over her mouth. 

"Isn't that so its venom can slowly digest the fly's insides?" Jeff asked. "Oh god. I really did get King Arthur and Cassandra Cillian killed." 

Ezekiel rounded on Merlin. "You said they were safe!" 

"He meant Asmodeus is saving them for later," Flynn said, giving Jenkins a slightly wild-eyed look. Jenkins nodded. "Asmodeus isn't venomous." He looked at Merlin. ". . . He's not venomous, is he?" 

"Not before he reaches full power, at least," Merlin said. 

Gwen dropped her hand down to her chest. "Oh thank the lord," she breathed. "We . . . do still really need to save them, though." 

"And reswap Jeff and Jenkins," Merlin said. "And change you and Arthur back into your modern selves, break the memory spell on all of you, and try to fix the warping of the timeline so the whole world doesn't fall apart at the seams." 

"Well, my boy," Flynn said, with an expression and an accent Jenkins hadn't seen or heard in a very long time. "At least you don't have to muck out the stables or clean my leech tank." 

"We do have those, if you'd like to," Jenkins offered Merlin, then turned to Flynn. "Gaius? _Really?_ " 

Flynn — or Gaius, rather — shrugged. 

"And how are you still," Jenkins gestured to Flynn's suit, and approximated Flynn's trademark talking with his hands. "When the others have gone all," he pointed to Gwen. 

"Because he hasn't kissed any old 'true loves'," Ezekiel said. "Cassandra's still shaped like herself, too." 

"Which is good," Jeff said. "I like her shape." 

"And because the Great Dragon would likely cause all sorts of damage to the Library if he were to suddenly appear," Gwen said. 

"The _Great Dragon?_ " Jenkins said. He looked Ezekiel over with a keen eye. "And who'd you turn out to be, Sir Leon? Percival, perhaps? Don't tell me you're Urther. That'd be just what we needed." 

Ezekiel smirked. "No one but myself, mate. Turns out I'm an original." 

Jenkins huffed. "And we all thank god for that." He shook his head and held out his hand for the spellbook. "Well. We can knock one thing off our to-do list easily enough: swapping myself and Mr. — Jeff — back. If none of you mind?" 

"As you seem perfectly capable of that, old friend," Gaius said. "Perhaps the rest of us should get back to researching the past life debacle." 

"I'll help with the body-swapping," Merlin said. "That _is_ my old spellbook, after all." 

"I assure you, sir, I have it well in hand." Jenkins nodded to Gwen and Flynn. "That', on the other hand, will require more of your particular expertise." He grabbed Jeff before Merlin could protest. And if his grip happened to be excessively tight, well. He was more than a little angry about Jeff's stunt. "Come along, Jeff. And I'll thank you _not_ to further wrinkle that suit. It's bespoke."

*

There was nothing in the Library about past-life transformation. It didn't seem possible considering the scale of the place, but according to the card catalog, several thick and dusty tomes, and something called an "app" on Ezekiel's "phone", what had happened to Arthur and Gwen was entirely unprecedented.

"You will simply have to invent the process yourself," Gaius said. "It will not be the first time." 

"You're kind of known for it, mate," said Ezekiel. 

Gwen gently touched Merlin's forearm. "I believe in you." 

Merlin offered her a weak smile, not feeling anywhere near as certain, but before he could say so, the cobwebs encasing Arthur and Cassandra abruptly vanished, and they all had to take a moment to dodge the slash of Arthur's sword and a fireball summoned by Kilgharrah. 

"I take it that means Jenkins and Jeff defeated Asmodeus," Gwen said. 

"Asmodeus?" Kilgharrah said incredulously, at the same time Arthur asked "Who's Jeff?" 

"That's one problem taken care of," Merlin said. "I still don't know why the body-swap reversal didn't work." 

"You said the twisting of the timeline was affecting your magic," Gaius observed. "You're going to have to be much more careful with your spells until that's resolved." 

"That's . . . a problem," Merlin said. "In order to resolve the timeline issue. . . ."

Gaius sighed, his posture shifting back into Flynn's. "Jenkins has to die." 

"Jenkins has to _what?!_ " Kilgharrah — or rather, Merlin suspected, Cassandra — shouted. It was the first thing he'd heard her say that seemed to be entirely _her_ , instead of the dragon. She must care for Jenkins deeply, to overpower Kilgharrah's personality. 

"Yeah, I vote a big old 'no' on killing Jenkins," Ezekiel said. 

"There has to be another way," Gwen pleaded. "Jenkins is what holds this team together!" 

"How do you know?" Arthur asked. "You've barely met them." 

"Maybe," Gwen said. "But Jacob knows them well." 

"You remember that?" Flynn asked. "He's still in there?" 

"Of course." Gwen shrugged. "He's me." 

"I don't remember anything of my present self," Arthur said with a frown. 

"Yes, well." Gwen gave him a fond smile. "I'm not as stubborn as you are." 

"I'd go with 'pigheaded'," Merlin said. 

"Shut up, Merlin," said Arthur, and it made Merlin feel all warm inside. 

A set of footsteps echoed through the hall, and everyone readied their defenses, be they magic or swords or — whatever it was Ezekiel did. But it was only Jenkins — or possibly Jeff — with no Jeff — or maybe Jenkins — in sight. 

Merlin's head hurt. 

"Sire," Jenkins — definitely Jenkins, then, unless Jeff had suddenly gotten a lot better at playacting — said, dropping to one knee. "I am glad to see you well." 

"Though you are no doubt wishing I were not in this form," Arthur said. "Rise, Sir Galahad. We are a long way from any kingdom." 

"Indeed," Jenkins said. "Ah, I should tell you: I dubbed three honorary knights earlier. I hope you don't mind." 

"I do generally prefer to do that myself," Arthur said, bemused. "But so long as they're noble and honorable and live by the Knight's Code, I suppose that's alright." 

"They are indeed, sire. You would be hard-pressed to find three individuals of this era more worthy." 

"Mate," Ezekiel said. "We're _right here_." He glanced at his fellows, possessed and transformed as they were. ". . . Sort of." 

"I think you would make a fine knight," Gwen said, and kissed his cheek. 

"Ugh, Stone, stop it." Ezekiel brushed her off, though Merlin thought he looked pleased. "Kissing's what got you into this mess in the first place." 

"Last we saw you, the body-swap hadn't unswapped," Flynn said. "How are you . . . you?" 

Jenkins smiled. "Ah," he said. "Magic door." 

"Magic door?" Cassandra asked, then her eyes went wide. "Magic door! Of course!" She spread her hands in the air, and faintly glowing, spectral charts and numbers appeared in the air before her, shifting rapidly. 

"Holy shit," said Ezekiel.

"You can see it?" Cassandra blinked at him, then smiled enigmatically. "Oh yes," Kilgharrah said. "A dragon has many gifts. Including making the invisible visible." 

"It's remarkable," said Flynn, and Merlin honestly wasn't sure if the sentiment was more his or Gaius'. 

"It's giving me a headache," said Arthur. 

"You get used to it." Cassandra nudged a few numbers back and forth, then isolated a whole string of them and flipped it upside down. She squeaked and clapped, and the whole display collapsed. "So. Remember the evil carnival?" 

Jenkins, Ezekiel, and Gwen nodded. 

"Coming back through the door undid the transmogrification," Ezekiel said. "But when we came back to the Annex during the fairytale thing, Stone was still all — hunstman-y." 

"The transformation wasn't complete then," Jenkins said. "In fact, it had barely begun." 

"And the Annex wasn't tethered to the Library at the time." Flynn started to pace. "It wouldn't have been anywhere near full power. The magic door must function as a sort of magical reset switch. Or at least the power source for one." 

"Like the teleporters in Star Trek," Ezekiel said. "They store your base DNA. You can use them to heal you or untransform you on a molecular level. You know, if the plot calls for it." 

The Librarians continued to bounce ideas off each other. Gwen and Arthur stepped back, leaning against the bookshelf on either side of Merlin. 

"You have any idea what they're on about?" Arthur asked. Merlin shook his head. 

"Star Trek is a TV show," Gwen said. Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Like a play, Arthur. But other than that. . . . Stone's interest lies mostly in the classics. Sci-fi was much too _low-brow_." 

"Huh," Arthur said. "What a prat." 

Merlin chuckled. 

"Hey," Gwen said, but she smiled anyway. 

"That's the power," Jenkins was saying. "But we still need a focus to get the desired effect. The potion Jeff and I drank, for instance." 

"Or your awful smelling salts," said Ezekiel. 

Jenkins nodded. "Gwen and Arthur will each need something that speaks powerfully of Stone and the Colonel before they go through the door." 

"We're still wearing their clothes," Gwen offered. "Will that do?" 

"It's a start," Cassandra said. "But we'll need much more to be absolutely sure. We don't want anyone getting stuck — halfway." 

Arthur shuddered. "Right. Let me at this Colonel's things, then."

*

They split up again, Cassandra, Ezekiel, and Gwen heading to the LIbrarians' apartment in town, while Merlin, Arthur, and Flynn headed to Eve and Flynn's rooms in the Library. Jenkins demurred when asked which group he'd like to join, saying he wanted to make sure Jeff hadn't done anything irreparable to his experiments.

Arthur waved Flynn on ahead before taking Merlin's arm and hanging back. Merlin allowed himself to be pulled along into a handy alcove, fearing the worst. 

"Don't look at me like that, Merlin," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "I just want to talk." 

"What look?" Merlin asked. "I have no 'look'." 

"You look as though someone's sold your favorite horse," Arthur said. 

"I do not." 

"You do too — dammit, Merlin. I'm not here to argue. You've been avoiding me, and I want to know why." 

Merlin shook his head. "I have not, sire. You're imagining things." 

It was astonishing how easy it was to fall into the old rhythms,. They might as well have been in Arthur's rooms in Camelot, rather than the hallway of a magical Library. 

"Don't you start that, Merlin," Arthur warned. "I'll not have you gaslighting me again." 

"'Gaslighting'?" Merlin frowned. "What's that?" 

"It's an idiom, Merlin, now stop changing the subject." 

"It's not a Camelot idiom," Merlin said. "Where did you learn it? Is it from Colonel Baird? Can you reach her?" 

" _Merlin_." 

Merlin sighed. Arthur had his teeth into this now, and there'd be no distracting him. Not without some sort of monster attack, anyway. 

Or maybe he could find some way to strike the man over the head. . . .

"Do I have to order you to speak, Merlin? Don't think that I won't." 

"I'm not avoiding you!" Merlin threw his hands into the air. "I just — I wanted to give you space, is all." 

"Space." Arthur glanced around. "Why?" 

"I thought — you wouldn't want to be around me. When I told you about my magic, you were angry. Or — terrified, maybe." 

Arthur sighed, sitting down on a handy decorative bench. "And when I'd had the time to get used to the idea, I believe I _thanked_ you." 

"Yeah, but — that didn't count." 

"Why the hell not?" 

"Well, you died pretty much immediately, didn't you. You could have been brain damaged." 

"You're brain damaged," Arthur said, rather by rote, Merlin thought. He tilted his head, studying Merlin. Merlin felt as though he might squirm out of his own skin. "This has been bothering you the whole time," Arthur said wonderingly. "You've been thinking I was mad at you. For _centuries._ " He shook his head. "Even I can't hold a grudge that long." 

Merlin's eyes burned. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you," he said. "I'm sorry you didn't get to see Albion, the real Albion. The one Gwen built in your name, with magic and honor working side by side for the good of the people. I'm sorry I let you go into battle without knowing the truth, that you had magic on your side. I'm — I am _so sorry_ , Arthur. I failed you." 

For a long time, Arthur didn't speak. Merlin could feel tears running down his cheeks, but didn't wipe them away. Arthur was right, Merlin had been avoiding him. Avoiding _this_. He'd let himself be trapped in a tree just not to have to feel this way. 

"I told you once that no man is worth your tears, Merlin." 

Merlin shook his head. "You were, Arthur. You always were." 

Arthur looked away then, and Merlin realized this was what _he'd_ been hiding from. Why he'd chosen reincarnation, instead of coming back in the flesh the way Kilgharrah had predicted. Arthur had always been terribly insecure. Uther had counted on it, to keep his forthright, headstrong son under control. Agravaine and Morgana had both used it to try to break him — and nearly succeeded, more than once. Even Merlin had used it to his advantage, taunting Arthur with digs at his weight or steering him wrong in times of crisis, to keep his magic a secret or try to steer Arthur's fate. 

And yet, Arthur had thanked him. With his final breath, he had looked up at Merlin and _seen_ him, the real him, and he'd thanked him for all he'd done. 

Merlin didn't know what he'd done to deserve such a good and loyal friend. 

Arthur rolled his eyes again, patting the bench next to him. "Do you need a hanky, Merlin? You really are such a girl." 

Merlin grinned at that, even as his tears dried on his cheeks. He sat down. "So are you," he pointed out. "Colonel Eve Baird." 

Arthur snorted. "At least she's a soldier." He knocked into Merlin with his shoulder. "It's good to do this again," he said. "You were my truest friend." 

"Who lied to you with every breath I took." 

"Only so I wouldn't kill you." 

"Would you have?" Merlin asked. "If I'd told you the truth, after the unicorn. Or the questing beast. Or any of the times Morgana attacked and I had to use magic to save the city. Would you have had me executed?" 

Arthur looked at his hands and didn't answer for several moments. "I don't know," he admitted. "I believed sorcery to be evil." 

"You didn't," Merlin said. "I heard you doubt that. Over and over." 

"The only magic I ever saw was done to harm people. To kill." 

"Yeah." Merlin let that hang in the air. "I probably could have helped with that, huh. If I'd known you weren't going to have me burnt at the stake for it, anyway." 

"I wouldn't have burned you," Arthur said. "Waste of good wood, that. Beheading would be much more practical. Or maybe a firing squad." 

Merlin sniffed. His face felt swollen and tight, his eyes aching dully. "Oh. Well. Then I definitely should have told you." 

Arthur chuckled. They sat that way awhile, in companionable silence, before he clapped his hands to his thighs and stood. "Right. Are you done bawling, then? We've got a world to save." 

Merlin nodded and pushed himself to his feet. For all that he'd slept the last several centuries, he still felt exhausted. "Hey," he said. "You remember who I was crying for, when you told me that thing about no man being worth it?" 

Arthur nodded. "The old dragonlord. What of it?" 

"He was my father." 

Arthur cursed. "What was it you used to call me? A, uh. Something-head." 

"Dollop-head?" 

"Right. I am definitely one of those." 

Flynn came careening around the corner, wild-eyed. "There you are!" He held up his fist. "I have just the thing to get Eve back." 

"Well" Merlin shot Arthur one last look. "Guess it's time to get you back in girly form."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final stretch! Someone remind me never to write a story again in which FIVE TO SEVEN characters all interact with each other at once. . . .

There wasn't much to it. Jenkins set the door to connect to the Annex entrance, so that no one would have far to go if something went wrong, either with the door or the spell. Arthur and Gwen clasped hands, each holding their focus in their free hand: for Stone, a copy of the _Canterbury Tales_ he'd had since he was a child; for Eve a pendant that had belonged to her mother. They had both taken a moment to say goodbye to both Merlin and Jenkins, then exchanged one final kiss before stepping through. 

Eve and Stone let go of each other's hands on the other side, Stone lifting his to his chest, Eve to her hair. 

"Oh thank god," she said, then looked back through the portal at Flynn and smiled. "It worked!" 

"Yeah." Stone frowned, his hands still on his chest, his book pressing into his sternum. "Gwen's still here, though. Like — I can still hear her." He looked up at Eve. "Arthur?" 

Eve shook her head. "Gone. I can remember being him, what he said and did while he was here, but that's it." 

Jenkins frowned. "You were both under the same spell. The door should have affected you both equally." He was forgetting something. Some detail that had gotten lost in the giant pile of confusion that had been this day. 

It was Cassandra — or the Great Dragon rather — who answered. "Stone was the one on whom the original spell was cast. Your door has addressed the complication, knight. Not the source." 

"Okay, but we're sending Cassandra and Flynn through next, right?" Ezekiel asked, pointing to Cassandra. "Because that's creepy." 

"They weren't physically transformed," Jenkins said with a nod. "So removing the spell should be even simpler for them than it was for Colonel Baird."

Flynn already stood at the door, raring to go. He looked back at Merlin with a fond smile. "You've done well, my boy," Gaius said. "I'm proud of you." 

Merlin nodded back. "Goodbye, Gaius." 

Flynn stepped through and immediately swept Eve into an embrace. Jenkins found himself smiling a little to see it. King Arthur and Queen Guinevere had always been his idea of a perfect, destined love, but Flynn Carsen and Eve Baird certainly had potential. 

Stone stepped back, his hands still pressing his book to his chest. Jenkins wasn't sure if it was him or Gwen who looked faintly crestfallen. 

Merlin turned to Cassandra. "Your turn, old friend." 

Cassandra backed away. "I was thinking, actually. Maybe I should keep it? The spell I mean. Kilgharrah has so much he could teach me."

Stone grimaced. "Cassie. No." 

"But you all could actually see my gift. Just think what else I could learn to do." 

"I don't think the spell works that way," Merlin said slowly. "I wasn't able to remove it before because it was no longer on just Mr. Stone. If you don't have it reversed, he could keep spreading it around accidentally." 

Stone blanched, putting even more distance between himself and the others. He was an extremely physical person, Jenkins knew. Not touching anyone would never be easy for him. 

Cassandra looked from him to Merlin, still hesitating. Jenkins put his hand on her shoulder. "It's not only heroes who are reborn into new lives, Ms. Cillian. You've all met Morgan. There were many more in Albion much like her." 

"But —" Cassandra bit her lip. "Kilgharrah knows _so much_." She looked ducked out of Jenkins' grap, looking at Merlin. "He talked you through stopping all sorts of evil. He could help all of us."

Stone's posture changed, as Gwen's personality made another appearance. "Cassandra," she said, every inch the powerful queen. "Please. My husband, my friends, they are all gone. The time of Camelot and her people has passed. That includes the time of the Great Dragon." 

Merlin's glance twitched in Jenkins' direction. If he was to be believed, it included the time of Jenkins as well.

Cassandra sagged. "Just a _little_ longer?" she asked.

"Nope!" Ezekiel had managed to move into position behind her without anyone noticing. "Time to go." And he shoved her through the doorway. 

Stone's instinct was clearly to catch Cassandra when she stumbled, but he pulled away at the last moment, hands still clamped tight to his chest. Cassandra landed on her face. 

"Jones!" Eve yelled, storming back through the doorway to give him what for. Flynn helped Cassandra to her feet and led her back through, taking hold of her chin as they went, as though to check to make sure the spell was really gone. Stone hung back, waiting until they were all clear before he followed. Merlin touched his arm the moment he was through, hanging on as Stone tried to flinch away. 

"It should be simple now," Merlin said, and after a moment, Stone nodded, holding himself rigidly still. Merlin recited a short spell and tapped Stone on the forehead. His eyes flashed gold, and Stone swayed once, then steadied. "I'm sorry. You were right to be cautious. I should have shown you I was trustworthy myself, instead of counting on your past life to do it for me." 

Stone shrugged. He kept his gaze lowered and his body language guarded. When he said, "It's alright," Jenkins didn't think anyone believed him. Still, Stone swallowed, and with a clear effort, looked Merlin in the eye. "You gave her a chance to see Arthur again," he said. "And — I got to feel what it was like to live in one of my favorite stories." 

Merlin smiled sadly. "Well then. I'm sorry about that, too." 

"So that's it," Eve said. "We're done, right?" 

"Not quite, I'm afraid," Jenkins said reluctantly. "There is still the matter of what brought Merlin here in the first place." 

Merlin nodded. "The timeline has been tampered with. It must be put right." 

Eve went white. Jenkins worried she might faint, though she'd never seemed the type before. 

"Yeah, what's up with that?" Ezekiel asked, not seeming to have noticed the Guardian's pallor. "You said Jenkins had to die?" 

"That's why you traveled through time, isn't it?" Jenkins asked Flynn. "In the original timeline, despite my immortality, I somehow died." 

"Not just died," Eve said softly. "You were murdered." She swallowed, and Jenkins had a moment to start processing that before she continued. "By the Library." 

Jenkins' entire body went cold.

The Librarians all started talking at once. Merlin caught Jenkins' eye, and with a flick of his glance, summoned a chair for him to sag down into. Jenkins took a breath, letting the others' voices swarm over him, then held up a hand for silence. The Librarians obeyed, each looking at him with their own mix of shock and pity. 

That wouldn't do. Jenkins could hardly believe it himself, but he would not allow the others to pity him. He waved Eve on. "Continue, Colonel. Please." 

Eve swallowed. "You gave your immortality up willingly," she said. "To save a woman you thought you had wronged. But she was — she'd _become_ corrupt. She wanted to end the Library." 

"Who?" Jenkins asked. 

"Nicole Noone," said Flynn. 

"The Guardian?" Jenkins shook his head, trying to remember details he'd only been peripherally aware of, here in the Annex. "She died in an explosion, didn't she?" 

"She was thrown back in time," Flynn said. "She blamed the Library — blamed _me_ — for getting stuck in history. She captured me before Eve and I could bind ourselves to the Library, and let you all believe I'd abandoned you." 

"So Eve had no Librarian to bind with," Jenkins said. 

"So she had too many to bind with," Stone countered, eyes on Eve. "You couldn't decide, could you." 

There were tears in Eve's eyes. "None of us could. The three of you — you're a team. And the decision was tearing you apart."

"But the Library must be bound," Jenkins said. He was beginning to see how everything had gone wrong. "A human connection must be maintained." 

Eve nodded. "The Library tried to force the decision. It pitted the three of you against each other. Took your memories and told you to fight to the death." 

"Oh god." Cassandra pressed her hand to her mouth. 

"I had to stop it," Eve said. "I'm your Guardian. I _had_ to. But the Library had taken Jenkins as collateral." 

"You saved your Librarians," Jenkins said. "So it killed me." 

It was a sobering thought. He'd always known that the Library had the potential to turn on the people who served it, had been prepared to take the brunt of it when Ray was out in the world and the Library's magic was fading. But that attack had been instinct, a dying being reaching out blindly for sustenance. The idea that the Library could do him deliberate, calculated harm, after he'd spent centuries devoted to its care and service. . . .

And it had. In another timeline, it had killed him. 

"It _broke us,_ " Eve said, despair clear in her voice. "Without you, knowing what the Library was capable of, the Librarians left." She looked around, from Cassandra to Ezekiel to Stone. "You all left. And the Library crumbled." 

The sentence hung in the air for a long moment, each of them likely considering the implications. Jenkins could hardly believe his death had had such an effect — that the others cared for him that much. Especially not when he'd been so callous towards them in the beginning.

He'd spent so much of his long life minimizing his human connections. Perhaps they were as important to him as they were to the Library. 

"So," Merlin said. He'd been so quiet that Jenkins had all but forgotten he was there. "How, exactly, is this whole 'Library' business better than just letting magic out into the world?" 

Ezekiel snorted and choked. Stone sputtered. Cassandra opened her mouth as though to reply, only to close it again with a soft "hmm." Jenkins, who had been working for and with the Library since the early days, found himself a bit at a loss, as well. 

"The Library didn't just _go away_ ," Flynn said. "It took all of magic and knowledge and _passion_ with it."

"The whole world was rewritten," Eve said. "It wasn't pretty." 

"Alright, fair point," Merlin said. "That's probably where the timeline began to warp." 

"Hang on," Stone said. "If the Library — and _all of magic_ — was gone, how'd you two end up traveling back in time?" 

"We found each other again," Flynn said, taking Eve's hand. "All five of us, thanks to Eve. It was all of us leaving — me going missing and you three losing faith and Eve losing hope — that brought the Library down in the first place. She reminded you three who you are, and what you mean to each other. And to the world." 

"Which . . . brought the LIbrary back," Ezekiel said. He looked at Cassandra and Stone. "We are _way_ more important to this place than we thought." 

"But — Jenkins?" Cassandra asked. 

"Was still gone," Flynn said. 

"You should have left me that way," Jenkins said. "It was absurdly dangerous for you to try to undo all of that. That was — I can't even count how many factors you had to account for, how great the potential was for paradox —" 

Eve shook her head. " _No_. You told me that as Guardian, I have to protect my Librarians' souls, not just their bodies. I can't do that without you." 

"Colonel —" 

Eve crouched down in front of Jenkins' chair, her hands on his knees. In her eyes, he could see everything that made her powerful, that made her a Guardian. Everything that had once made Arthur a true king. "None of this works without you, Jenkins." 

Jenkins looked away. 

"It's going to have to," Merlin said, his voice soft. "I'm sorry, but what you did — all of magic is now circling around _him_. He's a — snag. On the fabric of time." 

"On the Loom of Fate," Eve said. "Why does it always come back to that?" She straightened, turning to face Merlin. "I don't care. He can't die again, Merlin. He _can't_." 

"Everything dies, Eve," Jenkins said. Eve shot him a look, full of fury and determination, and again he was reminded of his long-dead liege. "I have already lived a _very_ long time." 

"There has to be another way," Stone said. "Gwen knew you, Merlin, so I do too. You're not just going to condemn a man to die." 

Merlin shook his head. "It's not up to me. It has to be Jenkins' choice." 

"That's how the Grail works," Jenkins said. 

"Right," Stone said. "The legends say it let you choose the moment of your own death." 

Jenkins titled his head and waggled his hand. "Not quite. But it is my choice when to relinquish my immortality." 

"Like when you gave it to Nicole," Flynn said. 

"I assume so, yes." 

"And that will fix it," Cassandra said. She was staring into space, the way she did when she made use of her gift. Jenkins squinted, then unfocussed his eyes a little, and could just barely make out the edges of spectral numbers. "The timelines are stuck to the Grail magic. If he lets it go, the rest of the fabric on the Loom should settle back into place."

"That's the idea," Merlin said. He stepped over to Jenkins, aging before their very eyes, his hair and beard growing long and white. "It's time to let it go, old friend. Or magic will continue to bend and twist around you, until not even your Library will be able to contain it." 

Jenkins leaned his elbows on his knees, unable to look Merlin in the eye. It was so much easier to doubt the man when he looked like he was barely old enough to vote. "I don't want to die," he said softly. "I know it's inevitable, even for us. But . . . I went into the world today. I met _people_. Just ordinary people, living ordinary lives. And they were amazing." He looked up finally, and found Merlin watching him, a sad smile on his face. "People can be delightful, Merlin. Did you know that?" 

"I had an idea," Merlin said, a bit of his youthful cheekiness still shining through.

"Well," said Jenkins, feeling somehow even older than even his thousand years. "I didn't. I know I have been around a very long time, but I don't think I've done much actual living, yet. So much of my time has been in hiding." He clenched his hands into fists in his lap, looking down again. "I can't die yet, Emrys. I'm not — _done_." 

Merlin reached down and cupped Jenkins' jaw, bringing his gaze back up. "That is the lament of all men." 

Jenkins blinked hard and looked away. "It is truly the only way?" 

Merlin nodded. "You are the center of it all, Jenkins. You must unstick yourself from time." 

"But — he doesn't have to _die_ yet, does he?" Ezekiel asked. Merlin flashed him a grateful look. 

"No," he said. "Not for a good long while yet, hopefully. He just has to be open to the possibility." 

"It'll make him cranky," Eve warned. "He's going to hate it." 

"What, this isn't cranky?" Merlin asked, and shook his head before going serious once again. "When I was a young man, and Arthur was still but a prince, I met the Fisher King." 

"He was a powerful sorcerer, wasn't he?" Stone said. "He was wounded in battle and locked himself into his castle. It was said that as he withered, so did his kingdom. There were some who believed that he lived there for centuries, sustained only by his magic, while his lands festered and rotted around him." He tilted his head, frowning. "Arthur went on a quest to get his Golden Trident. Gwen was a wreck the whole time — he was supposed to go by himself, no back-up of any kind." 

"And he was _really annoyed_ that I followed along," Merlin said cheerfully. "Anyway, the legends were true. The Fisher King had defeated death, but at great cost. When I met him, he asked me for a single favor in return for allowing Arthur to take his trident and complete his quest: to help him to die." He looked at Jenkins. "It's as you said, my friend. Everyone dies. It's only a matter of time. But as you've seen today, the soul _never_ does." 

Jenkins looked from him to each of the LIbrarians in turn, seeing trepidation, fear, and understanding on their faces. Cassandra, Ezekiel, and Stone, they would all die, and the odds were still that it'd happen sooner rather than later. Flynn was bonded to the Library, and therefore immortal — but so had Judson and Charlene been, and they had still both passed on. 

Finally, Jenkins allowed himself to look at Eve. She understood him in a way few others ever had, both as a soldier and as a non-Librarian. And once, he now knew, she had been his mentor, his liege, and his dear friend. It was her opinion that he held above all the others. 

Though it looked as if it broke her heart to do so, Eve nodded. Jenkins unclenched his hands and gathered his strength. 

"Alright," he said. "I will not be responsible for the Library's end, though it may yet be the cause of my own. Let my time come when it will." 

Merlin bowed his head in return. "Thank you, Sir Jenkins. You are truly a noble knight." He smiled. "And for my money, that beats out 'pure' any day."

*

In the end it was easy. Merlin mixed a potion in the Grail, and Stone read an incantation from an ancient scroll. Jenkins didn't feel any different when it was all over — and then he did.

But that was okay. Feeling different — changing — was what a mortal life was all about. 

"And where will you go, Merlin?" he asked, as he and the sorcerer stood in the Annex's doorway. Merlin was still aged and bearded, though now dressed in modern clothes, and he carried with him a walking stick made from the very tree that had kept him trapped for so long. "It's been an extremely long time since you've been out in the world." 

"If you can do it, so can I," Merlin said, shooting him a wink. "I think I'll go home. A part of Arthur may be here, in your Eve Baird, but I suspect there is still something of him waiting in Avalon." 

Jenkins wasn't so sure. Baird was Arthur, through and through. Unless Merlin meant the king's former body. In which case, Jenkins didn't want to know. 

"And you're sure you wouldn't rather use the magic door?" he asked. 

Merlin snorted. "You use magic too much, Jenkins!" he said, sounding crotchety and cranky. "It's not a toy, you know!" He set off down the front walk and out into the world, grumbling. "Kids these days." He paused to shake his walking stick at a squirrel. "Get off my lawn!" 

"You never should have let him spend time with Jones," Stone said, coming up behind Jenkins. 

"No one should _ever_ be allowed to spend much time with Mr. Jones," Jenkins agreed. Then he sneezed. 

" _Gesundheit_ ," Stone said. "Gotta watch out, man. The tree pollen this time of year can be hell on your allergies." 

"Trees," Jenkins said, pulling out what had once been an entirely decorative handkerchief. "Dreadful things. I can't believe you want to communicate with them." 

"Ain't like that," Stone said. "They all keep tryin' to talk to _me_. They're damned pushy, you know." 

"My sinuses had noticed, yes." Jenkins turned back towards the Annex, and its blessedly hypoallergenic air. "Has Ms. Cillian returned from her vacation, yet?" 

"Not yet. Baird found a clipping for the Civil War ghosts, though, which should be the last one before. . . ."

"Before we are past the point of prophecy," Jenkins said. "Again." 

"Well, whatever comes along, we'll deal with it," Stone said. "Or we'll all die." 

"Oh," Jenkins said darkly. "I'm reasonably certain we're all going to die." 

And that'd be terrible. But it would also be kind of okay, too.


End file.
